


Some of them want to use you... or abuse you... right, Geoffrey?

by AleMazz11ITA



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (Archie Comic)
Genre: Explicit Language, Foreign Language, Threats, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 21:10:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19093195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AleMazz11ITA/pseuds/AleMazz11ITA
Summary: Following some sort of a Genesis wave, Geoffrey St. John and his wife Hershey find themselves working as some sort of mercenary spies for the British government. While investigating a case, though, Geoffrey gets side-tracked by an anonymous mail that claims to reveal information about his father's death. Intrigued, he goes to the city of Udine, NE Italy. What awaits him, though, aren't answers: turns out whoever sent that email wants to use him for his nefarious needs. What follows is a trial that will put his and his wife's physical and psychological stability to the test to avoid the birth of a new criminal.





	1. New threats

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I wasn't going to publish this story. It was just a way to deposit the ideas that my brain would make up. So, I started writing in early April... and kept writing... and kept writing... I had so many ideas! In the end, I was so surprised by how long it turned out to be that I decided to publish it. Now, there probably are some small mistakes, since English isn't my mother tongue. Nonetheless, I'm very proud of the result.  
> Before you read, I would like to mention that NONE of the ideas you could get from my words actually represents my real ideas: that was in order to make the story more interesting. In addition, this story is extremely realistic, but there still are a few made up names and facts, so take everything with a pinch of salt.  
> I hope you enjoy this, especially my ideas: I'm not here to show my writing skills, but, rather, my creativity.  
> Also, if you expect a story close to the comics, LEAVE NOW. Only the protagonists are from the comics and there are just a few little throwbacks to details from the earlier comics. I prefer the first description of Geoffrey, as it is more threatening than his slimmer form. But I think you'll like the story anyway.  
> All characters belong to their respective owners.

It was a bright sunny day in Canterbury, Kent. Here, an Australian skunk with British origins, Geoffrey St. John, was working on a case for the NCA: after being teleported to Earth following some sort of a Genesis wave, he quickly got in contact with the British, as he'd always wanted to see the Brits, considered by him as "my ancestors who gave me the wits." Nonetheless, he still had an Australian accent that made him recognisable from the other spies. Despite that and the fact that he would always get into arguments, he was quickly noticed by the government who hired him after seeing his exceptional and rare espionage and tactical abilities. He worked for many different agencies all at once, like the NCA, the NDEDIU, the MI5 and the MI6, based on the case, like a mercenary. Basically, the JIO would tell him an interesting case where they knew he was an expert at. In particular, Geoffrey was specialized in very important crimes with relations to politics, like Mafia, political murders, terrorism and government-supported criminal actions. He could plan the operation by himself and his way of working was always the same: sneak in the organisation, often by himself, and have his men ready to strike on his command to arrest the criminals. Now he was sent to Canterbury to investigate the disappearance of a lot of historical furniture from the cathedral as it was feared it could be sold on the dark web and the money gained would be laundered in firearms to support rebel groups all over the world, especially in the Middle East and Europe. While he was working, his wife, a black cat named Hershey, was making sure that there were no threats around her husband.

"I'd say, mate, that it's got t' be someone who works here. There ain't no signs of break-in' in. Have the police asked all the workers?" asked Geoffrey on a microscopic radio.

"Negative, Jones, they still haven't started. We're still in the preliminary part, take it easy." answered the voice on the other side.

Geoffrey sighed: he felt he was on the right path.

"Why don't you take that job? I want to see you do it in less than a day…"

"Fine, fine, I'll wait!" After turning off his radio, he whispered: "Ya cunt!"

Hershey was waiting in a black Range Rover with dark windows. He quickly kissed her before she asked "So, how'd it go?"

"I think I've got it, luv. It's gotta be someone who works in there. No one broke in."

"What makes you think that?"

"A feeling that ya and the lads at the camp can't be told immediately 'cause it's complicated. Ya see, it’s hard t’ explain."

"Makes sense… you always say that... Let's go back home." she noted, annoyed.

They then drove to their hotel in Canterbury, an ordinary one. Here, Geoffrey was shocked to find a letter with his name on the envelope.

"Crikey! How'd they find me so quickly?"

He thought it was from those who had stolen from the cathedral, or, how the criminals called it, "Our Lady of Canterbury" (a very clear reference to the one in Paris which had burned down three and a half months earlier.), who were experts at reselling historical furniture and buying firearms for European rebel groups, i.e. the New IRA, which had already publicly threatened Geoffrey (like many mobster families). Still, Geoffrey had rejected many times a security detail as he had always thought it could hinder his sneaking abilities (having the police always around isn't really secretive).

Back to the present, he opened the letter and read it. "Dear St. John, I'm writing to tell you that, while seeing my city, I found some documents talking about a certain "Ian". It'd be great if you let me know about them and, in exchange, I might reveal to you some other documents. You can find me in Udine, NE Italy. Regards..." However, the regards were followed by a mess. Geoffrey tried to find a pattern, but failed: it was truly random. "Surprised a Southerner of the Alps found something about me dad."

He didn't like Italians: he'd always found them so insistent about hospitality. Once, when he had to sneak into a mobster family, he had to endure 24 hours of wedding in the Sicilian hills with unbelievably complicated and expensive ceremonies where he was offered a lot of local food that he didn't like, but had to eat because rejecting gave the other guests killer-like faces while having to listen to such long conversations that even the most out-going of Brits wouldn't be able to handle. "Mind ya fuckin' business, mate!" He would often think. Yet, it was believable: following the universes rift, he quickly learnt that the documents landed in Europe. However, they had landed in the wrong country, according to him.

"Piss off, it went there!"

"Geoffrey, calm down. It's not so bad. I've been to Italy and it was a very nice country. However, there were too many old people…"

"That means I'm goin' there by myself. Ya back me up if I need help." he interruptes.

"Are you sure?"

"No worries, luv. They're all dumb down there, it won't take much t' enter. It's gonna be a piece of piss! Now... How shall I get there?"

As soon as Hershey grabbed her PC, wrote down Udine in the destination, the flights popped up on the screen and Hershey was about to propose the best flights, Geoffrey rolled his eyes. "Ya still haven't learned, have ya? Ya know that I can't fly, between check-in and procedures the enemies have all the time to set up missiles and take me down where I'm left t' die in a field woop woop!" "Geoffrey, it's a commercial flight, you think they would claim hundreds of lives and cause huge controversy just for you?"

"They can and they'd do it. Something similar happened in Ukraine 5 years ago. That's how Ian left us, too! I can't have the same ending! Even if I survive, I will have given me ID to hundreds of humans!"

"OK... then you could use this nice vehicle."

"A Rangie will do it. I'd say it'd blend in easily."

Only two things could catch him: the plate, LO66 GSJ. If someone knew what to look for, they'd find him immediately, and the windows: all of them, including the front one, were darkened. Nonetheless, he left Canterbury at 6 a.m., sneaked into the Channel Tunnel and arrived to the designed city at 12 a.m.. "I'm never driving through fuckin' Germany again!" exclaimed the frustrated skunk. He'd booked 3 nights in an hotel on a commercial road with his fake name, Geoff Jones. After checking in, he immediately went to sleep.

 

He woke up the next day at 10 a.m. and grabbed his laptop, which could auto-destroy when ordered. "Bloody hell, there's nothing t' do here in this shithole. I should’ve booked 2 nights." he thought while looking at TripAdvisor. "Could visit a few towns nearby."

Suddenly, he heard a knock.

"Mr. Geoff Jones?" said the voice from the other side of the door.

"Yeah? Come in, mate."

"There's a letter for you." he said while dropping the envelope under the door

"Thanks."

He opened it, which read: "Now that you've arrived, meet me at noon in the Cormor park, near the stadium. I'll be waiting on a hill with a tree on top of it. You can't miss it. Regards."

"It's got t' be that cunt."

He got on his car and drove to the park, where he parked in a field near the highway. "How am I going t' get in there?" he thought, still inside the car. He looked at his surroundings: highway, slip road, nothing to cover him. "I'd better not park here." So he drove to where the sign indicated "Parco del Cormor". There, he parked with some problems: there were many many people. Luckily, someone was leaving and he took the place. "'Tis I reckon is much better."

Indeed it was: there was nature everywhere around him. Much easier to sneak in. He put on sunglasses and sneaked into the park. After some rather closed paths, the park opened into a massive open field with a path and, to his right, what looked like a café with a meeting place.

"Blimey! So many fuckin' ankle biters!" It was filled with children: there was a playground nearby and many families had brought their children to play, despite being cloudy and there being 32°C.

Geoffrey hated children: their curiosity would always attract them to places where, according to him, they shouldn't belong. Especially with a burly anthropomorphic skunk on sight: he was a child magnet and that would blow his cover. Of course, with many other anthros living around (the rift had happened a year earlier and everyone was involved: once on the planet, they could choose their citizenship freely) his sighting wouldn't be as exceptional, but kids would still be attracted by curiosity.

Anyway, there was clearly no way to sneak into the main path that headed who knows where. But there was no hill in sight: that obviously wasn't the place. He tried to look for gaps where no one was looking: it was too risky, a jogger could easily appear from nowhere. In addition, he didn't know where the path would lead him. He thought and thought… Until suddenly, he had an idea.

He noticed that the path nearby had a little empty drain nearby. He could easily walk very close to the ground on all fours. He was used to it. "Only thing is, I'd better wait to have all eyes away from me..." It was impossible, joggers would come out every 30 seconds or so: he wouldn't be able to do the entire length of the drain in such a short amount of time.

The number of joggers, though, gave him another idea: become one. With sunglasses, he'd still cover his eyes and avoid identification. In addition, joggers coming from the other side wouldn't pay attention to him. Only problem was the children. "If I jog and see an ankle biter in front of me, I'll slow down and get some distance..." It was still risky, but that was probably his best shot. There was still a problem, though: his wrist-mounted crossbow. He couldn't just run with a weapon in clear sight and he wanted to hide it, but what if he needed it for the meeting at the hill. "This'll suck."

He grabbed the longbow and put it... in his mouth! He had to struggle a lot, his throat was screaming: "SPIT IT!" But there was no other choice: "Just think about it an' don't swallow it... nor spit it, for that matter." he said to himself.

He finally got on the move. Before taking the path, though, he looked at a map of the park, where he noticed something that looked like a hill. He then jogged at a relatively slow pace in order to avoid having the bow move too much in his mouth, cutting his insides or, even worse, the throat, which could bleed him to death. He decided to take the path heading straight to his left because he'd planned it by looking at the map. 100 meters in, he turned right. It was awkward, though: no one had taken that path. "I'd better shoot through this part quickly." he thought to himself. So he ran quickly, until he arrived to a crossways. Here, he turned left. His mouth was hurting inside, he'd probably cut himself. "Bloody hell, I've got t' drink, but I can't!" Finally, a few meters later, he saw his destination: on the right, there was a hill with a big bended tree on top of it. That was it.

"Found ya!" he whispered to himself. He run on the path before walking on the smaller one that lead to the hill. There, he saw a young man sitting on a bench on top of it, holding some paper: that was him. "That bloke ain't even 18! It can't be 'im!" Nonetheless, he wanted to check.

He decided to go the long way around. At one point, he noticed that the hill was made of a path going up like a snail and the part behind was hidden from people's view. "If he's a galah or an untrustworthy cunt, I'll turn this path bloody red right here!" Here, he also remembered to spit the arrow and put it back on his right wrist. He noticed that there were some red spots on his hand when he spat: he must've been bleeding a little. So, he grabbed a bottle of water and drank it, all of it. "Much better. Now let's see if this bloke is a dag or a galah." He finally arrived on top of the hill.

The teenager looked at him. Something in his look told Geoffrey that, yes, he was looking for him. He decided to go casual with the boy.

"G'day mate." he greeted with a fairly noticeable accent.

"Good morning. Are you Mr. St. John?"

"Yeah, that'd be me.” He decided to admit that was his real surname since the teen had written it on the letter. “Ya told me ya'd found some documents about me father, Ian. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir. Those are the ones I could bring here. I'm afraid I couldn't bring them all here, but they're at my house. Is it OK if I show only these right now?"

"No worries, mate. That's more than enough." It was a 10 page document regarding classified details about the crash that killed his father. Geoffrey took his time to read the documents. He also did many checks, including paper quality, smell and method of writing, like a true spy, without making the teen notice. Everything was OK, expect for one thing... The writing style changed ever so slightly between two pages, hinting a forgery.

Only the first page convinced him, but that was useless. It was a simple opening page of an investigation, very common in MCAPC (Mobius Commission Against Plane Crashes) archives. The rest, on the other hand, had a slight difference in the writing. Clearly someone had tried to copy the writing style of the official writers in Mobius.

Back when the crash happened, the electric systems that made the PCs run had been destroyed during the war, so professional writers were hired in order to avoid forgeries. It was convincing for a beginner, but not for an experienced spy.

"This bloke is lyin' t' me. This is a forgery, 100%. I'll make 'im spit the truth behind this hill. He's in heaps of trouble an’ he probably knows it." Nonetheless, he kept a poker face and also managed to keep a neutral tone when talking to the teen. "That's sick, mate! When shall we meet at ya house?" "I'm always free, you decide."

"How about s'arvo?"

"What?" he asked confused.

"This afternoon, sorry. Still got my Australian English flowing." apologized Geoffrey with a forced laugh.

"I understand... Anyway, let's go…"

"Ya know, I'm not on a hurry, so why don't we go the long way and breath some clean air?"

"Sounds good to me." answered the teen naively.

Geoffrey couldn't hide a slight smirk: the teen was now in his hands. They started descending the hill.

"I'll give you the address in my car, is that OK?" He totally wasn’t aware.

"That's fine, mate."

"OK, that's…"

In a split second, Geoffrey reached for his shirt near the neck and violently pulled him backwards. It was strong enough that the teen fell behind him back first into the muddy terrain. Before he could react, Geoffrey turned around and put his right foot on the teen's chest, holding him down. He then put his armed wrist onto his knee and pointed the weapon between the teen's eyes. His face had quickly turned furious and threatening.

"Listen, mate. Ya got three seconds t' tell me all of the truth and explain y'self, or I'll turn the grass and the mud here red." Geoffrey threatened.

"B-b-b-b-but...," the teen muttered. Geoffrey then shook his wrist, showing that he wasn't afraid to pierce his head.

"Don't ya dare start with the pleadin’, ankle biter, gimme the truth or you won't be saying 'nother word!"

"I-I already told you everything..." he stammered.

Geoffrey's tone turned even more threatening "BULLSHIT! Gimme the truth right now, ya galah!" He was almost screaming. "Ya've been lyin' to me, ya cunt! SPIT IT OUT!"

"Fine… you want the truth, you’ll get it.” answered the teen, who, strangely, wasn’t afraid anymore. “You see, I'm no ordinary teen: I used to excel at school. Just studying and studying. It came, though, at a great psychological cost. Which worsened during the summer. You see, I'm bored. After I heard about the rift, I decided to have fun and change my life a bit. By that, I actually mean revolutionise. I tricked you here with letters that I wrote. I tried to copy your writing style in Mobius. In order to get you here. You're the reason I did this. The thing is, I want to subdue you into using your exceptional espionage and close combat skills to build a new... well, Mafia family, and with that…" Out of nowhere, Geoffrey violently spat on his face.

"I've heard enough, ya criminal! Ya drongo thought could get me tricked: never in ya life will it happen! With this proof, I'm sentencin' ya to the death penalty, execution..." His tone became even more menacing. "On. The. Spot."

Firstly, he grabbed some mud and threw it on the wanna-be mobster's face. Then, he got the crossbow as close to the criminal's skin as possible.

"Anythin' to say, ya galah? Any prayers?"

Suddenly, before releasing the arrow and killing the teen, he heard something and felt a presence. "Ciekawe, ile czasu zajelo zrobienie tego wzgórza." (“I wonder how long did it take to build this hill.”) said a man.

"Prawdopodobnie okolo miesiaca." (“Probably about a month.”) a woman answered.

Tourists, Eastern tourists. They were going up the hill and were about to run into an execution.

"It's too iffy stayin' here, I'll beat it." Geoffrey thought before quickly getting up and running towards nearby trees. He just barely reached the trees before the Poles saw the teen on the ground.

"Are you OK?" asked the man.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, thanks. Just fell."

"That's good to hear." added the relieved woman.

At this moment, Geoffrey raised an eyebrow: why did he lie? At first, he thought it was because no one would believe him that a burly skunk had held him down and almost killed him, but then, something else came to his mind: "This bloke must be keeping it between me and 'im. I reckon he doesn't want any interference and wants me under 'im without the intervention of coppers or random people. Of course, sayin' that to others would get 'im in trouble. At least I can count on me luv." he said while thinking about Hershey.

Now, however, there was another problem: getting out of the park. He knew that he was exactly on the opposite side of the exit. He would've had to jog 600 m to reach the exit. Furthermore, he would come out of nowhere and that could be very suspicious. So he had to plan his way out carefully. For that he tried to remember the map.

"I came from NW. I should be facing SE. I think the river turns in a few yards. I'd better check."

And it did.

"Now I'm facing ENE. There should be a motorway up ahead." He thought while hearing the sounds of trucks driving by. Soon, however, he noticed a bridge nearby. Using the woods was out of the equation.

"Nothin' more t' do, got t' walk on the path and pretend I'm a jogger." He waited 5 minutes before getting back by the hill. "This cracks my shits so fuckin' much!" he whispered loudly before putting his bow, once again, in his mouth. Back to running. This time, however, he jogged much more quickly to be sure to get out of the park very quickly. He was noticed by many people, especially in the 300 m straight.

"This ain't good. Defo got t' keep in mind who saw me." he thought while being hidden by nature. So, he decided to go the parking and write down all the plates of the cars. He hid behind bushes and wrote down many plates.

"Better know who knows me."

After 10 minutes, he decided to beat it. He got in the Rangie and called Hershey.

"Luv, a drongo is tryin' t' get me here."

"Really? Was it all made up, then?"

"Yeah, the documents were clearly forged."

"You want me to come over?"

"Not yet, luv. I think I've got it. Those Southerners will be surprised by how smart foreigners are. Would’ve killed that criminal if I had the chance."

"What happened?"

"I almost pierced my bow through his head before some Slavic fuckers decided to see the hill." "Why?"

"He's a wannabe criminal. Better kill 'im first before he does. I'm stayin' here, I want t' see 'im drop dead in front of me eyes."

"You sure you don't need me?"

"Certain, bloody certain. Not yet, that is. I’ll tell ya when I really need ya, luv."

"Fine. Good luck."

"Bye, luv." and he sent a kiss.

After leaving the parking, though, he noticed the same man he'd threatened to kill in a car. He saw as it quickly passed by, and Geoffrey didn't manage to catch the plate as it was covered. However, he did catch that it was a white station-wagon with dark windows behind.

"That's got t' be a Hyundai, I presume an i40." In addition, there was something blue in the bottom right, near the braking light. With all of this information in his mind, he got back in his car.

"Now we'll see who's stronger here." said Geoffrey before going back to his hotel.


	2. Heating up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now knowing the criminal's real intentions, Geoffrey sets off to get a better idea of the city and get ready to strike back. However, he's not as invincible as he thinks he is... Not even when Hershey will have to come in.

Once he arrived in the hotel, he decided to examine what had happened earlier and set up a plan to catch the criminal.

"He's got t' live here, maybe in the surroundings. Or even woop woop. But not too far. I bet he knows the city like his pockets. He knew perfectly that the park was a tough place t’ shoot through for me. So, I reckon I have to equalise him.” he thought on the bed. “I'm visiting the city tomorrow, every single road, avenue and park. Now I'd better write down a path." he concluded.

He downloaded a map of the city and started drawing on it. After a while, he finally finished and drew a path that covered all of the central streets and the road to get there.

"If I keep the area that I know low, he's going t' have t’ come t' me eventually. And I'll know where to strike from. The rest is foreign, mustn't get there." he told himself. Now he had to think how to be as stealthy as possible. Going in dark alleys would be very suspicious.

"She said this is an ‘ol men's city. So I know what t' do." He had to bring the typical 60-year-old tourist gear: hat, sunglasses and a Canon camera wrapped around his neck. Finally, he was going to bring a map and a tourist guide and keep it on his head in case he didn’t want to be seen. "If I park here, the tourists information is just up the road. There, I'll buy a map and get going." He was feeling proud saying that, he'd planned masterfully. And to think that he was only in his mid 20s!

As for the rest of the day, he just watched Italian TV. He understood Italian perfectly, just like many European languages, but he wasn't as good at speaking it: so many grammar rules and irregularities. Sure, he knew it well and could do a complicated conversation, but he couldn’t make a single mistake. “Speaking a language badly exposes more”, he would always think.

"Wow, Italian TV is truly shit. Just watching it makes me stuffed. How are these programmes still running!?" he exclaimed while looking at the most horrendous gossip you can imagine.

"Why the fuck do people never mind their fuckin' business!? I can't care less if Ferr... whatever her fucking name is accidentally dropped her glasses!" he exclaimed.

So he sat there, zapped a lot and found a channel that aired a 007 movie. "Finally, that's some good shit! Get 'im, ya cunt!" He was in luck: there was a marathon of all of the movies and that was the first. Just like that, he spent the rest of the night and went to sleep at 1:30 a.m.

He woke up the day after at 8 and had breakfast. A few hours later, he got in his car, which was in the garage, and went to the parking he'd decided to park in the day earlier: Piazza I Maggio. Here, he parked and went out. He noticed there were many tourist coaches from the German-speaking countries. "Hoffentlich muss ich nicht Deutsch sprechen." (“Hopefully I don’t have to speak German.”) he said.

He was much better in German, but still wasn't perfect. Speaking in a foreign language could make him harder to identify (someone would think "Look at that German!" instead of "Look at that Australian!"), but making a mistake would easily make his language cover fall.

He quickly arrived at the tourist information desk where, hidden by his sunglasses and purple hat, he got a map and a guide. Here, he couldn't help to notice that it was cool, despite the conditioner saying that it was 29° inside. Geoffrey hadn't thought of that.

"I should’ve seen the forecast!" he whispered angrily.

What he'd missed was that a red alert was up in all of the country for heat: in Udine, temperatures were excepted to reach 38°C. While Geoffrey could easily sweat it out normally, there was a huge amount of humidity: over 90%! The felt temperature came close to 60° C! Indeed, he quickly noticed that there weren't old people or children around: without cooler temperatures, they'd be dead!

"I've never had a stroke down-under in the outback, I’ll be fine!" he said confidentl while drinking some water, which was disgustingly hot.

He passed under Porta Manin before reaching Piazza Libertà. While looking at the beautiful square, he quickly noticed that he wasn't sweating. That's where he realized it was very humid. Therefore, he got in a bar and grabbed 4 bottles of frozen water. And tons of beer.

"I need a cold one…" he whispered while panting a little bit.

As soon he left, he drank three cans of beer and put the water in his head.

"Ah, much better. Ya can't say no to a tinny!" He felt better.

He then walked down another road for quite a while. He reached St. Jacob's Square ("They couldn't call it "St. John's, could they?" was a remarkable comment) before reaching Corte Savorgnan. This small pedestrian path would lead him on September 20th square. He went under a tunnel and, as soon as he got out, he felt something hitting him.

Suddenly, his head starting hurting a lot, worse than a migraine: it was throbbing hard, veins pushing against the bones. When he put his hand on it, he quickly noticed it was dry and boiling hot: he wasn't sweating at all! He quickly started rapidly breathing and felt his heart racing. He wanted to drink, but as soon as he did that, he burped. Not a food burp, but one that indicates nausea. Indeed, he quickly felt vomit going up his body. Finally, he felt he had to drop to the ground. His head was brutally throbbing.

"Uggh..." said a weakened Geoffrey.

He couldn't keep walking: he put his right knee down and used the bended left leg as a support for his hand which was holding his head, facing downwards. "It's... fuckin'... killing me!" he said in a loud whisper between his ever-increasing pants. He felt like he was going nuts: the agitation he felt was making his head even hotter than it should've been. He tried to grab a drink, since his mouth was dry, but he failed. He was losing control of his body. He felt like he was paralysed, all he could do was to stay in that position.

All of a sudden, a man in his 30s noticed the struggling skunk.

"Tutto bene, signore?" (“Is everything alright, sir?”)

Geoffrey answered in English. "Yeah..., mate.... Everything's al...alright." said the skunk, without looking at his face. That wasn't convincing.

"Sicuro che stia bene?" (“Are you sure you’re fine?”) insisted the man.

Suddenly, Geoffrey felt his brain giving him anger. "I'm alright, mate!" Just saying that words made his nausea worsen and his mouth even dryer. "Now rack off!"

The man, surprised by his sudden outburst, put his hands up and said, keeping his cool, "Stia calmo, signore." (“Take it easy, sir!”)

Geoffrey then managed to show his face to the stranger. That was enough to make the man leave. It was the definition of "leave me alone or I'll kill you."

As soon as he left, he put his head back down and started panting even louder. He coughed, and from the cough came out a bit of vomit. He tried again to reach water, but failed. At one point, he felt his brain was about to give up.

"Ugghhh...! Not... now...!" said in a slurred speech. What he said afterwards, not even he could understand. After that, he collapsed unconscious. The young man, who had watched him in the shadows all the time, quickly called the emergency services. "C'è una persona a terra in Corte Savorgnan, temo che abbia avuto un colpo di calore." (“There’s a man on the gorund, passed out, in Corte Savorgnan, I fear he’s just had a heat stroke.”) He was actually certain Geoffrey had a heat stroke: he himself had one the year before.

 

What followed was a mess, but Geoffrey didn't hear anything: the sound of people trying to help him, the ice put to temporarily cool him down, the rush of the doctors or the siren of the ambulance. Nor did he feel the thermometer being shoved up his butt, which revealed that his body temperature was 40.9 °C (105,62 °F) after the first cooling procedures: easy to imagine that it had gone over 41°C. He also didn't see the many other patients put in cold tubs in the ER: the hospital was essentially dealing only with people suffering from heat strokes. He was put in a cold tub, the last out of 20 others. However, he soon had to be taken out because a kid in much more critical conditions needed treatment. So, he was put in blankets and ice was put in different parts of the body, before being laid in a bed in a room with AC on and a fan on his face.

Here, he regained consciousness.

"Wh...Where am I?" asked a confused Geoffrey.

"You're in hospital, sir." said a very charming and young nurse. "You were taken in for a heat stroke. Don't worry, everything is alright here. You're already cooling down, see? You'll be fine in no time." Nonetheless, Geoffrey was nervous. He tried to move, but the nurse gently laid her hand on the skunk.

"Calm down, sir, please. You can go as soon as you have a safe temperature. Here, have some water." He kindly accepted the offer and drank it, before noticing that it was bucketing outside: the sky couldn't hold that much humidity. There were now 27°C outside.

"Stay there and you'll be fine. I'll be back in 20 minutes, sir." She smiled and left.

As soon as she left, Geoffrey got out of the blankets and threw the ice away. "Heat stroke my ass! I'm an Aussie, I can stand such temperatures! It's not even that hot now and it's bucketing! Bullshit!" He went to the window to see where he was: the window looked onto a parking.

Something, though, made him panic: a white station-wagon with dark black windows, the same car he'd seen the day before.

"Shit, that's 'im. I better beat it! He knows I'm here!"

Just like that, he got out of the room. Here, he met the nurse. "Sir, what are you doing? Please, go back in the blankets, there's no need to be in such a rush…" she gasped.

But Geoffrey wasn't listening, he was just staring at her. Suddenly, he pushed her.

"Sorry, luv, gotta go!" and he started running. The girl wasn't hurt, but was shaken.

Soon after, a doctor came to check on her.

"Cos'è successo, Giorgia?" (“What happened, Giorgia?”) asked the worried medic.

"La puzzola mi ha spinto e sta fuggendo." (“The skunk pushed me and he’s running.”)

"Chi ti ha spinto?" (“Who pushed you?”)

"Il signor Jones." (“Mr. Jones.”)

"Ora chiamo i Carabinieri. Non preoccuparti, va tutto bene. Almeno non ti ha picchiato." (“I’ll call the military police. Don’t worry, everything is in order. At least he didn’t beat you.”) said the medic in order to make her feel better.

Geoffrey would've done what the doctor was worried about to other doctors, but she was so kind and nice that he'd decided to just push her softly to not hurt her. Back to Geoffrey, he hid in the closest bathrooms and called Hershey.

"Luv, I'm in heaps of trouble." he said, with a bit of panic.

"What did you do?" asked a worried Hershey.

"I pushed a nurse out of the way…"

She burst out: "Are you nuts!? Why the fuck did you do that!?"

"I thought I'd seen the criminal. Look, *sigh* I don't have any time to explain it to ya, just get here quickly."

"Thank fuck I'd come here. You know, I was staying in a hotel nearby."

"You beauty!"

"Nothing’s a beauty now.” she interrupted frantically. “You're in hospital, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"I need to know in which pavilion you are."

"Not a clue, luv."

"Fantastic!” she screamed with irony. “Geoffrey, it's urgent. The hospital is as huge as fuck, there are 20 pavilions and an underground system, each pavilion is made of 3 stores, get out and tell me, or you're dealing with the cops on your own." She had never been so serious.

"Look, luv, I can't. The coppers are probably already here and they know where I am. I can't sneak in the halls, there's too many people."

"You get out or you're fucked. It's simple, Geoffrey: they'll find you before I do. Make something up! You know how to do that!"

Suddenly, Geoffrey had an idea: he noticed a back door.

"Hope it's open."

It wasn't. Geoffrey, who was starting to sweat, then thought of going upstairs (he was in the basement), but that wouldn't work. "Gotta bust it…" he said to himself.

So, he rushed to the door and bust through: it opened easily, but it was loud. That meant he had to keep moving fast.

So he quickly started running: he was soon outside, but he didn't know where. As soon as he saw the outside, though, he went under the rain to determine where he was.

"Luv, I see a big brown building and with what looks like buses in front of the entrance."

"Are you in a parking?" said Hershey: her voice showed hope.

"Yeah, luv."

"Then you're in front of pavilion 1. You're in luck, Geoffrey, I'm here."

"That's sick! Where are ya?" he screamed before sighing in relief.

He noticed a black car flashing its headlights: it was a Jaguar XE with Italian plates, FL864NE. "Are ya flashin' me?"

"Yep, that's me."

He quickly got to the car and got in the passengers' seat. On the driver's side, it was her, Hershey. "Here I am, luv." He quickly kissed her. "Let's get the fuck outta here."

Hershey pushed on the gas and the car left, not without spinning the wheels on the wet road.

"So, Geoffrey, real talk now... What the fuck happened?" she said in an interrogation-like tone.

"Well..." he sighed loudly: saying that hurt his ego and made him embarrassed. "I was visiting the city like a normal tourist before I felt my head hurting like hell. I also felt nausea and irritation. Ya know, the same feeling after staring at a PC for hours. I was so crook!"

"You had a heat stroke, hadn't you?" asked Hershey.

Geoffrey kept silent.

“Admit it. I know you don’t want to accept it, but you have to: everyone can get ill, we’re naturals, we didn’t get roboticized!” Her voice was now more compassionate.

Geoffrey sighed even more. "Yeah... so I was brought to hospital. Here, I was put in blankets and, when I woke up, a nice nurse told me to calm down. To make things quick, I got out thinking I'd seen the criminal and pushed her out of my way."

Now Hershey wasn't happy with her husband's behaviour. She sighed before saying with a very direct voice "Goddammit, Geoffrey. They're going to report you, you know? You've managed to blow your cover in the worst possible way! We have to get back to Britain and talk with the JIO…"

"No, luv, I'm staying here, if ya want, ya go, but 'till I kill 'im, I'm stayin'." He interrupted.

"I'm not leaving you here, then. I'm staying too. To control you.”

"You beauty.” he said with some irony. “Now... let's put this aside and think about our next moves." "I say we go to my room and relax.” she said immediately. “Especially you. You really need to calm down. I've booked a room for two."

"But I wanna…" complained Geoffrey like a kid.

"Look, Geoffrey, now you're with me. Let's relax and then we think about the next moves. You're clearly tired, Geoffrey, you can't work like that."

He had to give in. "Fine, fine! So... where did you book?"

"Là di Moret. And you, where had you booked?"

"Continental."

Suddenly, Geoffrey became tense. "Ya... haven't booked with Geoff Jones, have ya?"

"Actually, I have. What's wrong?" she asked, worried.

"They're both owned by the same company! They'll know I've moved from one hotel to the other."

"Geoffrey... you really think they're going to notice?" She wanted to put Geoffrey back at ease.

"Hmmm... now that I think about it, no, they're Southerners of the Alps, they won't notice!"

What's interesting to note is that Geoffrey was already less secure about the dumbness of Italians. He was more careful now and had to be.

They arrived in the hotel where Geoffrey checked in.

"Mr. Jones, I'm slightly confused…" said the receptionist.

"What's wrong, ma'am?" he asked calmly.

"You've just stayed at the Continental hotel and now you've booked a room with a woman in this hotel. Why didn't you stay in the Continental?"

Hershey was biting her nails, she'd told Geoffrey something wrong and that could cost the entire mission. However, Geoffrey had prepared an answer anyway.

"Ya see, ma'am, yesterday my car broke down and had to be towed away. The mechanic there told me that the car needed fixing and I couldn't drive for 4 days. So, I wanted to extend my stay, but I noticed that the Continental was full and that someone had booked my room. Seeing that I couldn't stay and with the fact that my wife decided to do a surprise by booking a room for two, I decided to get in contact with her…"

"And then I told him that I'd booked a room for two without knowing that he was already in another hotel." she concluded the sentence.

"Yeah. That's why. I hope ya understand." It was very convincing and very natural.

"I beg your pardon, sir." said the mortified receptionist.

"No worries, ma'am. I understand." Just like that, they went into their room.

"Wow, Geoffrey, you surprise me every time!"

Geoffrey scoffed. "Pfft, that was easy. I've had to make up even harder conversations in the past. I always have something ready, even if someone tells me not to worry. Ya can't trust anyone, they don't know everythin'. "Trust no one" was one of my favourite TV show's headlines. Only y'self."

Hershey was struck once again by his incredible abilities and coolness (when he wouldn’t get in stupid arguments), that was why he’d married him.

They then turned on the TV and tuned in Rai 3, where the regional TG was airing. After some boring politics, something interesting came up: "Aggressione all'Ospedale di Udine. Si cerca una puzzola australiana." (Aggression at the hospital. An Australian skunk is wanted.”) was the title with the voice in the background describing the event in short: it concluded with the fact that the CC had just been informed and were on the search, while politicians said that the law that was about to be approved would avoid this kind of aggressions. They both understood Italian perfectly. They knew what that meant.

"Geoffrey, you're wanted in the whole country now. We can't stay here any more!"

However, Geoffrey was on his microscopic walkie-talkie with the NCA, hidden in his glove.

"Look, sir, I need a new ID. It's urgent, I fucked up and the coppers are after me."

"The NCA can't be involved with this any more. Forget that you're part of it now: you went there on your own without our permission, now you deal with it by yourself. Accept your responsibilities! Also, you're in Italy, the MI6 will now take care of your situation!"

Geoffrey then let off a very clear "Fuck off, ya cunt-sucker! I don't even need ya help! Go deal with Canterbury on ya own now."

Hershey quickly rushed to Geoffrey. "Geoffrey, stop it! You're going to lose your job at this rate!" "Why should I, luv!? I've already lost it! It's their problem now!"

She quickly got in the conversation and said kindly "I beg your pardon sir, my husband is very nervous right now. He'll calm down and you can talk like men later. Is that OK for you?" The other voice let off a "OK".

"Sorry, luv, got myself a bit carried away there." said Geoffrey after closing the conversation, hoping to find her forgiveness.

"I hope you can solve it, otherwise forget about me, too!" She was so serious that Geoffrey, for the first time since he'd arrived in the city, didn't feel like a leader. Yet she didn’t sound that panicked. "Goddammit, Geoffrey. You always get so carried away and so easily! Control yourself, for fuck's sake!" She then sighed really hard to cool herself down. Geoffrey couldn't hide a bit of embarrassment. "Anyway... let's see what the news have to say."

When the broadcast showed the news, it made the two worried: Geoffrey's full fake name was given out. If the hotel told the police, they'd be stuck in a trap. Yet there was no picture.

"We can't stay here any more. Let's get to the car and drive off." he told Hershey.

He then heard a knock.

"Mr. Jones, someone would like to talk with you." It was the receptionist.

There was no time to prepare an escape: the police were probably already waiting. At least that’s what Geoffrey thought. Because of that, they couldn't pack.

"Geoffrey, what are you doing?" she asked, worried.

While opening the window, Geoffrey answered: "We're flying, that's what we are doing, luv."

"And our equipment?"

"Forget it, I have what I need!" he exclaimed while showing his crossbow.

The knocks became more threatening. "Mr. Jones, open up, please!"

That was enough. Geoffrey grabbed Hershey and he launched himself out of the window. He was on the first floor, so the fall wasn't that high. However, the landing wasn't stick and Geoffrey landed with the right foot first. That was enough to make his ankle begin screaming in pain. Geoffrey, however, held it down and just said. "Uggh... fuck!”

"What's wrong, Geoffrey?" she asked worried.

"It's nothin'... just me right ankle."

"Are you sure you can walk?"

"Yes, yes I can. I've been through much much worse… uffff... I reckon this is nothin' compared to the tortures I've been through." Despite saying that, he was limping horribly.

"Geoffrey, you're clearly injured. You can't walk like this."

"I'm trained for this, luv. It's nothin', really." he said while holding in the pain.

They got to the car. "I'm driving." said Hershey. Then, she asked. "Can you please give me the ankle that hurts?"

"OK, luv." He put his injured ankle on her lap. He was curious: he didn’t know what she was going to do.

"Just relax and enjoy yourself." she said with a pleasant voice.

She started massaging his ankle. It was so pleasant that Geoffrey started to moan in pleasure. He immediately felt the pain going away.

"Where... *moan* where did you learn that?" asked the happy skunk

"It's a secret. You'll never know."

"Oh, ya are so cheeky!" he said smiling.

After a few more seconds, they casually drove off. Parked near the entrance was a Subaru Forester that read “CARABINIERI”.

 

They drove away from the hotel, then turned left and took a back road that arrived in Chiavris. "Geoffrey, what do we do now?" asked Hershey.

"We're sleeping in the car. Ya sleep in the back and I sleep in the passenger's seat." he answered coldly.

"Sounds good to me. Now... Where should we eat? I’m kind of hungry…"

"Eating isn't guaranteed, luv. Nothin' is.” This answer was even colder. “It's us against the city, probably the region. Fair dinkum, we shouldn't eat tonight. Let the waters calm down and then we start by eating at quick places, like self-services." Yet Hershey's chest was growling. "Ya have t' eat, don't ya? Fine, you're gettin' a pizza. I'm not eating."

"Are you sure you don't have to eat?" She really wanted her husband to feel as well as possible.

"More than certain, luv. Don't worry about me, I need to think about all of the possibilities."

She parked the car and got a pizza in the store: while Geoffrey was wanted, Hershey still wasn't, so she could casually get a pizza. She locked the car and got the delicious Italian plate. 20 minutes later, she came back.

"Hershey, this is vital. I think I've seen the car." he said excited.

"You mean the criminal's?"

"Yeah: its plate is **019**."

"That's great! So, who owns it?"

Geoffrey sighed: those were the bad news. "It's owned by a police officer. He works in Viale Trieste, in the administrative section. I saw the prick in the passenger's seat. I'm 100% certain it's 'im."

"So what are we going to do?"

"I'm following' 'im tomorrow afternoon, when he finishes work. He doesn’t know who he’s up against." said with a smug. Hershey hugged Geoffrey: that was the reason she'd fallen in love with him. "Now we need to sleep. Ya know a good place with free parking?"

"No, not really."

"Let's look for it, then!" exclaimed like a leader.

40 minutes after starting, they found some good free spots near a church and a building inhabited by priests and nuns. "We're sleeping here. There's only nuns to worry about. They're so old, they won't understand shit."

What he didn't know, was that he'd parked RIGHT BELOW the criminal's house.

 


	3. No kindness, no mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unaware of the threat looming on him, he starts to act even more violently than before, fearing imminent action, going as far as threatening people who do good for him and for others.

They both fell asleep, but soon after, Geoffrey woke up panting.

"It's all in ya head, mate. It's not real!" he whispered to himself.

He'd just had a nightmare: a group of people would break into their car, paralyse Geoffrey, put Hershey in the white car and drive off quickly. It was hard for him to go back to sleep: he was feeling awake. So, he decided to stay awake to check whether the criminal would pass by. For hours there weren't any cars passing by.

"Fucking hell, there's no night howls around here. It's so quiet, too quiet..." he said while drinking a can of VB. That was to keep him awake.

The sun set and, at 7:50 a.m., he saw it: the white car. It came out of a garage and drove towards the big avenue that Geoffrey could see at the end of the road. He quickly climbed on the driver's seat and turned on the car. That woke Hershey up.

"Geoffrey, what are you doing?" she asked with a tired voice.

"I'm killin' 'im, right now." was the cold-blooded answer.

He kept some distance from the car in front: the car got to the main avenue and turned left. Before a traffic light, it turned right into a building that had the sign "CARABINIERI". It was true, someone in the family worked in the Gendarme.

"Looks like our bloke has the law in his family…"

"Yeah... Geoffrey, you'd better not kill him.” said Hershey, who was really worried with the developments. “You'll spend the rest of your years rotting in a jail in Italy!"

"I don't care! As long as that drongo is dead, luv, I'll be rapt! Plus, I can escape easily, I bet they aren’t ready for such skills" he said with pride.

"So, what do you want to do?"

"Look up the driver's son. Try to get some infos about 'im. Something tells me he's not sane..." "Why? Is something wrong with him?"

"Yeah. When I first met 'im, he didn't look at me. At all. He just kept looking at his feet and wasn't really loud. Even if he was speaking perfectly, he clearly wasn't comfortable and not because of the forgery, because while I was examining the forgery, he was calm."

"You mean he might be autistic?"

"I think he is, luv. Or an Aspie. One of the two, really. I can bet the Uluru he followed therapy when he was younger. Look up those who offer treatment against autism in the zone. They’ll bloody have something!"

"I'm on it." said Hershey.

Soon, she found about an NGO that did what Geoffrey was looking for: activities for autistic people of all ages. "There's a phone number here and it's available at the moment. Should I call them?" "Gimme the phone, I've got this." He dialled the number on the site and called. A woman greeted him with a typical business greeting. Geoffrey couldn't fuck it up now: he had to speak Italian. "Buongiorno, mi piacerebbe avere informazioni riguardo un certo M.... Ha avuto contatti con voi?" (“Good morning, I’d like to have some informations about a certain M.... Has he ever got in touch with you?”)

"Intende Ale...?" (Do you mean Ale…?”)

"Sì, lui, esattamente." (“Yes, him, exactly.”)

"Cosa deve sapere?" (“What do you need to know?”)

A tough question: "Everything" was too suspicious. So he went for: "Vorrei sapere, per favore, se è stato... se ha usufruito dei vostri servizi?" (“I’d like to know if he’s… ever benefited from one of your services, please?”)

"Perché lo deve sapere, signore? Sa che queste informazioni sono private. Tuteliamo la privacy dei nostri ragazzi…" (“Why do you need to know that, sir? You know this information is private. We care a lot about our boys’ privacy...”) she said annoyed.

Hearing that, Geoffrey hang up. "Kindness my ass! What a stupid bitch!" He sighed violently. "I've got a better idea!"

Hershey was worried.

"Where is it located?"

Hershey didn't answer: she agreed that the young boy's privacy had to be protected and didn't want innocent people to meet Geoffrey's anger.

"WHERE IS IT!?" he insisted.

"V.... Via... ******, *.” she stammered. “But please, don't harm them…" She didn’t cry, but she wasn’t feeling well: she was afraid since she knew how far her husband could go.

"If they co-operate, I won't hurt a fly. I'll let them know who I am!" He answered. He clearly wasn’t joking.

He then drove to the address.

"Stay here." he ordered.

"No, Geoffrey, I'm not staying there. I'm coming too."

"I don't need ya. I can talk it out!" answered Geoffrey, annoyed.

"What if it doesn't work?"

Geoffrey rolled his eyes; she was right. "Fine, you're coming."

They rang the bell. Soon after, a woman carrying a black bracelet brought it close to a sensor which opened the door. The two greeted the woman that was standing there. She was the same one that had answered the phone call. As soon as she heard Geoffrey speak, she recognized the voice.

"Cosa vuole da M******?" (“What do you need from M******?”) asked the annoyed receptionist. Before she could finish the question, though, Geoffrey grabbed his ID and showed it to the lady. "Agent 020, sono qui per conto del governo inglese. Mi servono i documenti di M******, subito." (Agent 020, I’m here on behalf of the English Government. I need M******’s documents, right now.”) he said with an annoyed tone.

The receptionist was surprised and didn't believe him: she took the ID and scanned it with the newest technology. While it was scanning, the woman asked again: "Qual è il problema di M******?" (“What’s his problem?”)

Geoffrey, upset because his ID was being checked, gave her a direct answer: "Vuole essere un mafioso. Me l'ha detto chiaramente." (“He wants to be a mobster. He told me clearly.”)

The lady was in shock: "Lui!? Criminale!? No, no, no... dev'esserci un errore: quel ragazzo non compierebbe neanche un furto a colpo sicuro…" (“He!? A criminal!? No, no, no… there must be a mistake: that boy wouldn’t even commit a safe crime!”)

"E' sicura di ciò?" (“Are you certain about that?”) Geoffrey pressed on.

"Certissima: ha anche lavorato da noi, non si è lamentato e ha fatto un ottimo lavoro. Quel ragazzo ha un futuro brillante." (“Absolutely certain: he even worked with us, he didn’t complain and did a great job. That boy has a bright future.”)

"Nel mondo mafioso." (“In the mobster world.”) taunted Geoffrey.

That taunting comment made Hershey intervene: "Geoffrey, what are you doing!? There's clearly a mistake, it can't be him! You heard the lady, they worked with him for years and he did work experience here! Geoffrey, I hate to say it, but you're in the wrong here. Leave them alone!" She sounded like a mother scolding her child.

"I need t' be certain and I need those documents!" he said stubbornly.

"What are you going to get from them? It's all past, there's no useful data."

"Past data can be helpful, luv: I can understand whether he's changing or not." That answer was kind of forced.

"You don't have 100% proof: even what you told her is weak. I'm sorry, Geoffrey, but you need to stop."

"Not without the documents." He obviously wasn’t going to stop. He then turned to the receptionist and said with a menacing tone: "Mi dia i documenti." (“Give me the documents.”)

Hershey had heard enough: "STOP IT!" and she pushed Geoffrey out of the way. The lady was shocked, but not as much as Geoffrey: "Hershey..." But Hershey ignored him: "Mi scusi tanto, signora. Mio marito è malato di documenti, vede. Per favore, mi può ridare i documenti di mio marito e ce ne andiamo senza i documenti." (I beg your pardon, ma’am. You see, my husband is crazy about documents. Could you please give us back his personal documents and we’ll leave without the other documents.”)

But the lady had a question: "Geoffrey? Non è "Agent 020" nel documento?" (“Isn’t it “Agent 020” in the document?”)

"Ah, io lo chiamo così. Sa, tra marito e moglie." (“Ah, I call him like that. You know, between husband and sweetheart.”) Hershey said fluently.

"Ah, capisco. Va bene, ecco i documenti d'identità. Le dispiace se chiamo il 112?" (“Oh, I understand. OK, here is the ID. Would you mind if I call 112 (Emergency services)?”) she whispered in her ear.

"A questo punto, no. Dovrebbe farlo ragionare per una volta, *blasphemy*." (“At this point, no. That should make him reason for once, *blasphemy* **.** ”)

Geoffrey had understood everything: Hershey had just given the lady permission to call the police on him "in order to make him reason". Suddenly, overrun by anger, he shot an arrow on Hershey's leg.

"Ouch!" She fell to the ground in front of the volunteer, who was shocked. "Gimme this!" He violently took the bracelet from the receptionist, hurting her hand, quickly grabbed her wife and carried her outside.

"Geoffrey, WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM!?" she said thrashing on Geoffrey's hands. Tears were starting to drop from her eyes.

"YOU ARE THE FUCKING PROBLEM! YA ARE!" He then threw her in the trunk and pointed his arrow to her head.

"DO YA HAVE AGREEMENTS WITH 'IM!? DID HE TOLD YA T' INTERFERE!? ARE YA PLAYING THE DOUBLE-AGENT ON ME!?” Even his voice hid a bit of desperation.

Now Hershey was truly heart-broken. "Geoffrey... *sobs* please…"

"DON'T YA DARE PLEAD! JUST SPEAAAAK!"

"You... you need to control yourself... ple…"

He didn’t let her finish. "WHY DID YOU PUSH ME LIKE THAT!?"

"The lady... *sobs*…"

"THE LADY WHAT!?"

"She couldn't be... be wrong... she was honest..." This time, Geoffrey didn't speak: he was only breathing hard. "I did it because... because I couldn't stand it any more…"

"DID WHAT!? AGREE WITH THAT DRONGO!?"

"No, *sobs*, no, push you... because she didn't deserve such abuse..." Once again, Geoffrey let her talk, but she was feeling the point of the arrow on her fur. "I can't stand your insinuations, Geoffrey! But I'd never betray you for that prick... I think... that's not his name. We got it all wrong."

"How do you know that!?" He wasn't screaming any more, but his voice was still tense. "Because…"

30 seconds passed.

"See, you've got no arguments to support your words! That means YOU’RE WRONG! SAY YA PRAYERS, BITCH!"

"GEOFFREY, PLEASE, NOOOOOOOOO!" She was screaming.

And Geoffrey added in his screaming: "GIMME ONE REASON WHY I SHOULD FORGIVE YOU RIGHT NOW, OR ELSE...!!" He was hesitating.

Hershey took her chance: "Because... we're a couple that can work everything out... if you calm down... we can work this out, OK? Maybe you're right... but we need 100% proof." She wasn’t crying any more, but she kept feeling his breathing: it was filled with tension. Then, it eased. Because Geoffrey was walking backwards, as if he was drunk. His face, though, struck Hershey: it was like he was thinking "What have I done!?" Geoffrey was thinking exactly that. He backed even further before he started running. Away from Hershey.

It took a while for Hershey to get out of the trunk: she was shaken, she'd been betrayed for the second time by a man she thought would love her.

"Geoffrey?"

Silence.

"Geoffrey?"

A car passing on the commercial road nearby was the only sound.

"Where are you?"

This time, the sound of leaves blowing by the wind broke the silence.

"Look, I'm sorry!"

Now she could only hear her breathing.

"GEOFFREY!?"

There was just a slight echo: very slight.

She then sat on the road and took out her arrow: she was bleeding, but not much, so surely she wasn't going to die.

Not far from her, Geoffrey was standing on his knees, hidden between some trees, on a dirt road. Here he was crying like he'd never cried before. He had to take out all of that tension. "Not even my wife... *sobs* not even she is safe from me! I'm a threat... a fucking threat... I'M NOTHING MORE THAN A FUCKING THREAT!" He hit the ground with his fist. "For everyone... *sobs* including her..." He then tried to breath to calm down, but it failed. "I'm so sorry, *sobs*, Hershey..." A cool Eastern wind blew on him, making him shiver. "I can't... Is it better if I just beat it? Bloody hell... I'm not helping anyone... I'm just a hoon causing trouble..." He then looked at his wrist and his crossbow. "The blood... the blood of criminals... the blood..." He turned the wrist in a way that the arrow was pointing at him. "…Is this how a criminal feels...? Did I really do this to innocent mates? If I feel like this... then what about an innocent...?" He didn’t answer the question, but he added: “I’m… guilty...”. He felt like a rope tightening around his neck, suffocating his voice. And ready to suffocate him for good. That arrow was that rope.

But he didn’t fire.

Instead, he put himself on all fours, with the arrow now pointing at the ground. He could see his tears dropping on the road: quite a few, to be exact.

Suddenly, he felt a hand touching him, the hand of hope: it was Hershey's! Geoffrey looked at her, his eyes shining: "L...luv?" was the only word he could say.

"I'm sorry for everything, Geoffrey. In that moment, I hadn't recognized you: your blind rage... made me think it wasn't you. I didn't think you'd go as far... and, boy, I gave you a lot of "safety distance"... Look, I know it's stronger than you, but that's not justice…"

"No, no, luv, I'm the one who should be apologizing: when you pushed, I didn't see the Hershey that I'd loved... my rage blinded me and I didn't notice..." His voice was holding the tears. "I didn't notice I was about to execute my beloved luv!" They hugged each other, like true lovers.

"It's OK, Geoffrey... no one is seriously hurt. We can get over this... Now, let's get back in the car and talk it out. Those fields here don't make me comfortable..." Indeed, she was right: she heard a siren, a police one.

She quickly got up, but Geoffrey didn't. "Geoffrey... c'mon, you're the one who always leads the way. Why are you standing there?" she said with the voice of a kid who can’t wait to get going.

"I need to rethink... everything... of this life, this case. What's more important..."

"Geoffrey, more than one thing can be important. You can do this easily, it's like multi-tasking. You're a champ at it, you should do it easily! C'mon, let's talk in the car." She handed out her hand to Geoffrey. He reluctantly grabbed it and they went to the car.

 

"No coppers around..." noticed Geoffrey while blowing his nose: that police car wasn't for them. "We have to reconsider how t’ approach. But we can't stay here and flip our thumbs... I fear…" He didn’t finish the sentence.

"Fear what?"

"I fear the criminal's about to act. He hasn't showed himself for days. I reckon he's about to act." "How can you be so sure?"

"Experience.” was the quick answer. “It's been over 3 days since I last saw 'im. We aren't getting anywhere, luv, we need to act fast."

"But we don't have enough proof about where he lives or who is he exactly…" reminded Hershey.

Geoffrey had to think a lot: just guessing or getting to a conclusion with little to no proof would lead him to a similar situation he'd lived a few minutes before. Geoffrey sighed hard. "I know, luv, I know." Suddenly, he had an idea. "I need to look up the plate. We might discover where his father lives."

“But we’re not sure whether it’s his father.” noted Hershey.

“Luv… this is our only lead...” added Geoffrey. “We have t’ follow it.”

“What if it fails?” she asked, worried.

“Somethin’ different will happen.” answered Geoffrey: he clearly showed he didn’t want to make the same mistake.

“That’s fine: look it up.”

It didn't take much for him to discover that the suspect lived in *** C*********, 2/*. Geoffrey proudly announced his findings.

"Do you know where it is?" asked Hershey.

"Not far from the centre. But the building stands out from the rest of the borough. Looks like it's much more modern than the ones nearby. Hershey, drive to this address." he felt excited.

"I'm on it."

They casually arrived at the spot. "This spot looks... familiar." noted Hershey. Indeed it was, they'd spent the night there. Geoffrey wasn't pleased "Don't tell me we slept right under his house. I really hope that's not his window! We need to check the block of flats." They saw the gate that would lead them to the garden. "Over there. Let's go."

When they arrived, they saw on their left a list of surnames and a keypad. "We're looking for M******, aren't we? Let's see... There it is! Scala *. You want me to ring this number?"

At first, Geoffrey said yes, but before she pressed the bell button, he quickly stopped her. "No, no, no, don't do it." he said in a panic while holding her shoulder. He indicated something over the keypad. "That's a camera. I reckon, if we ring, he would see us."

"You're right. Then what should we do?"

"We're climbing over the fence. It's ankle biter's play!" He quickly climbed over.

“Wait!” screamed Hershey. Geoffrey had missed a camera pointing on the gate. Only then Geoffrey noticed it.

"Really?” he said, amused. “That’s fake. Now stay there, Hershey. I'm looking at the building." It was an interesting building: it had a garden surrounded by flats on three sides. The other one was a wall that divided it from the street. He went to check the doors. After a bit, he found the letter he was looking for. "Shit! He might have the window pointing to the street!"

He quickly came back to Hershey. "So, what did you find?"

"Nothin' conclusive, really. For all I know, he could have those windows..." he said while pointing at some windows. "...or they could look at the garden inside. Luv, what do ya think is better to do?" "I would say we should sleep at the same place. If he happens to look out of a window, we could see him. As long as he’s the criminal."

"Great idea, luv! So... how should we spend the rest of the day?"

"Hmmm... let's explore the city. Considering it's started raining, you probably won't have strokes."

"Ha, ha, ha." he said ironically. "But that sounds good. Let's do it." And so they did it. By midnight they were back at that parking place.

"The lights are on, Hershey..." said Geoffrey while yawning. "I wish I could stay up, but I can't... Ya slept last night, I haven't... G'night, luv."

"G'night."

He quickly fell asleep and started dreaming great things. Dreams… not reality...

 


	4. The new "mate"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The criminal finally acts and Hershey finds herself at his mercy. However, he is willing to reach an agreement in order to save her. At first, Geoffrey doesn't want to, but soon he'll find himself forced to as that could be the only way to save her. The negotiations will be a tough psychological test for the skunk, with the criminal the only person he can talk to, who'll show him something that could shatter Geoffrey's mind: the real reason he was tricked.

At around 1 a.m., Hershey had also fallen asleep.

But her sleep wasn’t going to be long… yet...

Suddenly, someone broke the back-left window of the car. As soon as that happened, a very loud alarm went off. Since the car was modified, a very loud alarm had been installed so that Geoffrey and Hershey could hear it from a distance. However, in this case, it backfired. They both woke up startled by the alarm.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING!?" screamed Geoffrey while covering his ears. Hershey also tried to scream, but someone put a hand over her mouth. She screamed nonetheless, which attracted Geoffrey's attention. "What do you think you're doing, ya bogan!?"

He pointed the arrow to those who were trying to pull Hershey out of the car through the window. In the chaos, gunshots followed.

"Hershey!" screamed Geoffrey. But the bullets weren't for her, they were for his legs. Just like that, they had almost immobilized him.

"Rrgggh... FUCK!" Geoffrey tried to limp to the back-seat, but failed: Hershey was already out of the car. "Hershey, no!" he screamed while clenching his teeth: his legs were screaming in pain. He knew he couldn't walk, so he tried to use his forearms and hands to advance. He got out of the car on the driver's side, where he saw Hershey being loaded on a utilitarian.

"Leave her alone, youse cunts!" While screaming, he shot an arrow. He heard a scream of pain in the darkness and saw a shadow collapse to the ground. A perfect shot. "Marcello!" "Sparagli, sparagli." (“Shoot him! (X2)”) said the culprits in the mess.

"Non posso! Ci muore dissanguato!" (“I can’t! He’ll die there from blood loss!”)

"Lasciamolo qui e prendiamo il gatto!" (“Let’s leave him there and take the cat!”)

It was a brainstorm. In the end, they turned their eyes on Geoffrey, who was on the ground shooting arrows. He was shooting quite a few arrows, despite lying on the ground and groaning in pain. "Svignamocela, non possiamo rischiare un altro morto. Via, via, via, via!" (“Beat it, we can’t risk another death. Go, go, go, go!”) They quickly got in the car and drove off. It was too dark for Geoffrey to read the plate, but he made out something. “**707**...” But he wasn’t sure.

What was sure, though, was his anger.

"Hershey... gnnhr... I swear ya'll suffer, ya cunt! Ya fucka, I'm going t'... gnnhr... not even kill ya, rip ya!" said Geoffrey in a fit of rage. Then, he used his forearms to reach the dead body lying on the road.

The killed wasn't that young, about 40 years old, long beard and long brown hair. Geoffrey looked at his body and found his cellphone. As soon as he opened it, he saw a photo of himself on the background. "Why... why would ya do... oh, yeah..." He then saw the lock: it was a sign. Geoffrey turned the phone back off and looked at the screen, where he saw the trail left by Marcello's fingers. He followed the trail and unlocked his phone successfully. He quickly got to Whatsapp, where he saw a group chat: "Lavoro". He entered it and saw a few messages written in what would look like gibberish. "Did iu chidnep fem bof?" (“Did you kidnap them both?”) "Ui onli got de ghirl, sorri." (“We only got the girl, sorry.”) "Iea, i uas maching a iug resistans." (“Yeah, he was making a huge resistance.”)

"The fuck are they saying...?"

He then noticed that the messages were eliminated from the chat. "iu... chidnep... wait... iu... chidnep... you... YOU KIDNAP! I've never seen this before!" It was an innovative way of writing, to say the least: the messages were in English, but the words were spelt with the Italian rules. (i.e.: "k" became "ch" or "c", or "y" became "i".). Still, Geoffrey had understood it in 1 minute.

"Arggh... fucking hell, they got her! THEY GOT HER! SHIT!" He beat his fist on the asphalt. "I'll find ya an’ I'll do something... something that even I would be disgusted by!" he said growling. He then decided to grab Marcello's phone and use it as a way to track down the killer. Before doing that, he looked at the chat: it had a few new messages. "Marcellos ded. I chilld im uif an erro." (“Marcello’s dead. He killed him with an arrow.”) "Is ded!? Did iu sciut is arms?" (“He’s dead!? Did you shoot his arms?”) "No, Ale, ui leggd im." (No, Ale, we legged him.”) "Tats uai Aid told iu tu sciut is arms end not is legs! Ivin if i cant ualc ill still bi aebl tu sciut erros: is arms uer dedli, not is legs! Dats it, iour faird!" (“That’s why I’d told you to shoot his arms and not his legs! Even if he can’t walk he’ll still be able to shoot arrows: his arms are deadly, not his legs! That’s it, you’re fired!”) "Bat…" (“But...”) "Plis, Ale, ui ev a femili to luc after!" (“Please, Ale, we have a family to look after!”) "No mersi uif idiots laic iu! Bleim iorselvs for Marcellos def!" (“No mercy for idiots like you! Blame yourselves for Marcello’s death!” "Uait a minut…" (“Wait a minute...”) "Is onlain! Ded mai ass! Ar iu laing tu mi!?" (“He’s online! Dead my ass! Are you lying to me!?”)

As soon as he understood that someone was using Marcello’s phone, Geoffrey quickly got out of the chat and deleted himself from the group. "Crap... he knows what I'm up to..." However, he was still lying on the road and couldn't move: his legs were still hurting. "I'd better... better call 112... with this... phone…"

As he was about to dial 112, he received a message from "Il boss". It had a picture of some teens at a birthday party, presumably the boss’. "Geoffrey, I know Marcello's phone is in your hands. I know what you're up to. So, don't hide it and tell me you're Geoffrey."

Geoffrey growled. "How do you know?" he wrote.

"I can see you from the window: you're lying on the road near Marcello's body."

"Ya prick! Fine... it's me, Geoffrey." He had to admit.

"Great! Now, do not call 112. I've already done that, the ambulance is on its way. Also, keep this phone as if it was yours. I'm willing to discuss Hershey's freedom."

"Never in ya life! Gimme Hershey and turn yourself in!"

"Fine. You want to waste your only chance at seeing her? Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Deep down, Geoffrey knew he had to try and follow this lead. “Fine, fine. We'll discuss it, but I choose where we meet."

"No, you're not. You say goodbye to your pussy if you do that. I'm choosing."

Geoffrey was growling: the criminal was in full control. He hated to admit it, but he knew he had to listen to him. "Where do you want to see me?" Before he received an answer, the ambulance arrived. The blaring sound of the siren shocked him, before being charged on the ambulance. Afterwards, he was rushed to the hospital.

 

Once he arrived at the hospital, the doctors told him the news: "We need to take out the bullets from your legs immediately." Geoffrey agreed and soon was in the surgeon room. The surgery went well: after 5 hours he was back on his bed. "Sir, it will take 2 weeks for your legs to cure completely. You're lucky your bones weren't shot. Usually, people stay here for months, but you're lucky. Now, have a nice stay."

Geoffrey quickly hid his face in the pillow after the doctor left. He grabbed the phone and read the messages. It had the location of the meeting, a restaurant on Viale Tricesimo, at 7 p.m., that day. It also had a few additional messages: "If you need to be operated, I can move the meeting to the following lunch, at 12, always there. If you get arrested for your push or the murder, don't worry, I'll get you out in no time."

Geoffrey decided to answer. "That restaurant, tomorrow at lunch. I need to recover."

"Fantastic. Now don't get arrested and we'll be able to talk it out. See you there, then."

Geoffrey didn't write back. He was feeling safe, though: he'd changed his fake ID to John Johnson and he was on the other side of the hospital from where the aggression had taken place. As far as he knew, in addition, his pictures hadn't been posted: the police were looking for an Australian skunk named Geoff Jones. Here, he had an idea.

"Parlo italiano. Farà schifo, ma è meglio farlo." (“I’ll speak in Italian. It’ll suck, but it’s better to do this.”) So, when the doctors came in to check him, he said. "Tutto bene, dottore, grazie." (“Everything’s fine, doctor, thanks.”)

However, the doctor wanted to talk. "Può dirmi cosa è successo?" (“Could you please tell me what happened?”)

"Hanno sparato a me. Marcello, l'altro, mi ha sparato. Allora io, in difesa, gli ho lanciato una freccia che l'ha ucciso." (“They shot me. Marcello, the other, shot me. So, in defence, I shot an arrow that killed him.”) "Capisco... non si preoccupi, andrà tutto bene." (“I understand… don’t worry, everything will be fine.”) And so he left.

Finally, at 9 a.m. of the following day he was allowed to leave the hospital, with surprise from the many doctors: no one had never recovered so quickly; as soon as he checked out, he decided to get back his car, which was still parked in Piazza I Maggio.

"Let's see if they've operated me well enough..." His legs were like brand new, they didn't hurt at all. "Perfect. Now... how do I get there?" He put the path on Google Maps. "20 minutes. Sounds good." He got walking and arrived at his car. It was still intact. "You beauty! You're still good as new." He got in his car and turned it on. "What time is it? 9:30... the meeting's in 90 minutes." He decided to stay in the car and do nothing.

Just like that, he left the parking at 11:45 a.m. and arrived at the designed restaurant at 12 p.m.. Here, he saw the Hyundai. "He's already here, the cunt." Of course, he knew he couldn't swear or threaten the criminal, he was in a public place!

Afterwards, he entered. "Buongiorno. Una persona?" (“Good morning. One person?”) greeted a waitress.

"Buongiorno. C'è qualcuno che mi aspetta?" (“Good morning. Is someone waiting for me?”)

"Sì, c'è un ragazzo che l'aspetta in miniera." (“Yes, there’s a boy who’s waiting for you in the mine.”) She said while indicating what looked like a mine.

"Grazie mille." (“Thank you very much.”)

Geoffrey then walked in the "mine", where he saw the teen. However, the teen had completely cut his hair: he was basically bald. He also had a bright yellow t-shirt with a small logo that read “Royal Thai Police”. He clearly showed authority.

"Good morning, Mr. St. John." greeted the teen.

He then put his hand forward, ready to do a hand-shake. Geoffrey was skeptical and didn't do anything. "Official meetings start with a hand shake, don't they?" "Yeah... you're right. G'day." Geoffrey put his hand forward to do the hand shake. Suddenly, the teen grabbed his hand and flipped it, doing a hand grip. Geoffrey quickly got out of it, but now his right wrist (which was armed) hurt.

Geoffrey's face turned serious and angry. "Ya…"

"Listen, Geoffrey. Don't you dare oppose any resistance, OK? My father taught me some self defence, so if you dare to attack me, you're the only one who'll get in trouble. Understood? Now sit in the bench in front of me and let's start talking!" Geoffrey just nodded while holding his wrist: the hand grip had surprised him. He was feeling totally helpless and under the criminal: he was in control of the game.

They sat facing each other on the long benches, with the table in the middle. The teen began the conversation: "Now... Hershey has been kidnapped and…"

"It wasn't ya." Geoffrey interrupted him.

"How can you be so sure?"

"The car that took her away wasn't yours: it was clearly much smaller, it wasn't a station wagon like your Hyundai. Cut the bullshit, mate. Ya don't have her."

"Geoffrey...” The teen looked… disappointed. “...you know that people can own more than one car... don't you?" Geoffrey wanted to facepalm so hard: what a rookie mistake. "If you still don't believe me, have a look at these." he grabbed something out of his small pouch. It was a bunch of pictures. "Here, have a look. I took them this morning." The pictures were horrifying: they included rape, torture and other disgusting things that I can't describe.

Geoffrey was fuming with rage. "Ya... ya sick fuck! You're even sicker and more insane than I'd thought! Why the fuck should I trust a maniac like ya!?"

"Because I'm the only one that can help Hershey right now." he answered coldly. Geoffrey now knew it was impossible to break him; on the other hand, he had to be careful not to fuck up. He took a few deep breaths.

The teen then continued: "If you want this to stop and have Hershey go back to her former self..." "Former self... WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YA DONE TO HER!? DID YA TURN HER INTO A MONSTER, DID YA…" Holding himself was almost impossible.

"Woah, calm down. Calm down, jeez. My God, Geoffrey, I didn't give her any chronic injuries! After all, there wouldn't be any fun in seeing her suffer once I'm done…"

"Fun...!? You think this is... fun!? Ya sadistic fuck!" Geoffrey growled.

"Yes... so what? She'll be fine when I'm done."

Geoffrey was visibly clenching his teeth and his breath was extremely quick. "Now, I know you want to kill me on the spot, but you can't. However, if you let me finish, we can talk it out, OK?"

"Talk... *growl*... I can't talk with ya!" He was about to blow.

"Then Hershey is staying with me and you get fucked." He was grinning, he was enjoying every second of it. "Here's the deal, Geoffrey: do you remember what I've said at the Cormor?"

"Yeah, ya cunt, I remember too well!"

"If you turn yourself in and become my personal spy to help me become a mobster, Hershey is free to go. Deal or no deal?" He got straight to the point.

"Why should I trust ya!?"

"Because... because if I have to do something, I do it. Do you think I never handed my homework late?"

"No…"

"There. Is that enough?" He then put his hand forward. "If you don't come to a decision now, we can always meet again."

Geoffrey was growling between himself: become his personal spy, never in his life would he help a mobster! However, Hershey was in extreme danger. Despite that, he clearly said he wasn't going to kill her.

Suddenly, he had an idea. "Do ya really wanna make a new mobster family? If ya don't want t' kill her, ya wouldn't kill anyone else."

The teen's smile widened. "That's the Geoffrey I know! Actually...I don't."

Geoffrey was shocked: he'd been chasing someone who was lying to him. His surprise then became irritation. "Ya... ya fucking lied to me!"

"Yeah, saying "I just want to play with you." back then wasn't going to work. You wouldn't have tracked me down. So I lied…"

"PLAY!? IS THIS A GAME FOR YA!?" His face was turning red.

"Exactly. I'm just having tons of fun right now, you know?"

"DOES SEEING A GIRL SUFFER MAKE YOU HAPPY!?"

"No, seeing YOU suffer makes me happy. Look at you: you can't hold yourself in. Seeing you put to the test makes me so happy. Looks like you've been pulled in a trap. Good luck getting out. I'll repeat it: if I'd said "I want to play with you", you would've gone back to England. Now you can't." Geoffrey became even more pissed to the point that he couldn't hold it any more: he tried to climb the table. Suddenly, the teen pulled out a gun and put it in his head. "Don't you dare advance, stripes! Get back in your seat!"

"WHY SHOULD I!?" While he was saying it, the gun was pulled in his mouth.

"Get. Back." The teen was dead serious.

Geoffrey stood there for 30 seconds before grabbing the gun to pull it out of his mouth. This triggered the teen who pulled the trigger. But the gun was empty. This, however, activated an automatic reaction that not even Geoffrey could control: he quickly jumped back to the seat.

As soon as he did that, the teen started laughing: "Look at you, you're so helpless!" Geoffrey was so embarrassed: he was right, he was controlling his moves, and Geoffrey hated it. He wanted to get out of that situation quickly. "Look, I need to think this through. Shall we meet again?"

"Of course", replied the teen. "Do you know where Grado is?"

"25 miles south of here, on the coast."

"Yes. Meet me at the private beach, under umbrella number 136, at 10 a.m.. Understood?" "...Understood..."

"Good. We're done for today. You can go."

Geoffrey quickly left: he was humiliated. Being humiliated by a teen was impossible to accept. He got in the car and bashed his head with his hand, as if to wake up from a nightmare. But it wasn't a nightmare, it was real: Hershey was being held to blackmail him into becoming his. However, now that Geoffrey knew the teen wasn't going to make him his spy, what was he going to do with him? "He's going t' make me his sex toy, isn't he? What a fucka, I bet he binge-watches the Saw movies!" exclaimed Geoffrey. "His punching bag... for nothing..." He sighed "But if I don't become that, then Hershey will suffer the same fate."

However, he was sure about one thing: "I'm going t' Grado and see the city. I need t' know where I am." So, he drove off.

Would the calm beach calm him down? Or its heatness heat him up even more?


	5. New city, same story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoffrey arrives in Grado in order to continue negotiations. The "Sunny Island", however, won't bring joy to him, but the exact opposite. At one point, he finds something that breaks him down emotionally: something so bad that no husband would be able to bare. Distraught, he tries to distract himself, but fails. Therefore, he has to keep going so as to finally kill the criminal. A meeting with his sister could help, but the inevitable eventually comes.

During the entire 45-minutes long trip, he thought about everything of the case, especially his first meeting. "He can't have lied there! He didn't show any signs of lying. But then again... he didn't lie earlier, too." Geoffrey was at an important crossroads: become the teen's punching bag where he would have to bare who knows what he does to have fun, or run away. "If I run, Hershey and he are gone for good... Yeah, I'll do that. Even if it fails, how bad can it be?"

He'd already gone through so many tortures, after all: this includes traditional ones, like waterboarding, and innovative ones, like some criminals that had put him in a position for days where every muscle would hurt and everything that he would be forced to eat would eventually be vomited, but the vomit would end up back in his mouth because of the position.

Once he arrived in Grado (and managed to park), he opened the door, but before he could get out, it closed. "The fuck!?" He then noticed that the trees were moving wildly: it was windy, very windy. However, the trees calmed down soon after. At this point, he got out and, after closing the door, the wind was back. It was extremely cold: despite being summer and 31°C outside, the wind made him shiver. After 30-35 seconds, the wind calmed down again.

"What on earth is this wind!?"

Before he could think of an answer, it was back and it felt like the first gust: his body wasn't getting used to it, every gust was like the first. He decided to look at the forecast: he saw that the wind was from ENE and it was fairly strong. Soon, he noticed that it would keep blowing at similar speeds for the following 3 days, before slowly starting to ease: by slowly, I mean another 3 days. He decided to look up the ENE wind and got an answer: "It's... *shiver* Bora? That's somethin' from the outback!" A little bit of research, though, showed that it was also a very cold wind that would blow from the Balkans into the Adriatic Sea: Istria, Dalmatia, Koper and Trieste often experience gusts of well over 100 km/h (>60 mph) EVERY YEAR, with peaks of up to 170 km/h (>100 mph), if not 200 km/h (125 mph). In addition, considering it was a katabatic wind that would blow in gusts, your body wouldn't get used to the colder air, making it shiver every time.

Geoffrey growled: "That's why he wanted t' meet me here, the lil' cunt!"

With such an unpredictable, but strong wind, shooting his arrows from the wrist-mounted crossbow was impossible, unless he had the wind behind. Knowing the teen, though, Geoffrey probably was going to face the wind. He tried to find a pattern in the wind, but there wasn't any. To confirm his suspects, he also randomly shot arrows to trees. It was a disaster, less than 10% of the arrows hit the tree, despite his abilities: the wind truly was going to harm him.

He then looked at his hidden watch: it was 4 p.m.. He decided to go for a walk around the city: he saw a park, the many residential areas and the city centre. Here, he noticed quite a few closed-off pedestrian roads that felt like a labyrinth, just like in Venice. Geoffrey didn't like that one bit, the criminal had many ways to hide or run.

In the island.

Getting out of the island, on the other hand, was a whole different story: there were only 2 ways out by car, two roads over the sea. After all, Grado is an island city. "He probably wants t' stay here 'till I make a decision, getting out unnoticed is impossible here." There was also the boat option, but with the wind, going by sea was out of the picture.

At one point, he decided to stop in a "calle" (the name of the tight streets), where here, away from the masses of tourists, he sat down and started looking at his own phone's pictures. He was sad to see so many pictures with Hershey in many different cities: Prague, Berlin, Amsterdam, etc. "Don't worry, luv, I'm coming." said Geoffrey before kissing the phone. After that, he decided to check Marcello's phone, which was now his. That was very convenient because it could avoid a tracking of his own phone. He tried to look for any remaining contacts with the criminal, but there weren't any: he was blocked.

Afterwards, he had dinner in a fairly fancy restaurant and went back to his car to sleep there. He woke up the following day at 6 a.m. and went to look for the meeting point. He was surprised, though, to find the beach closed. He noticed that there were gates to get into the beach. "OK, this is the beach… looks shit."

At 8 a.m., the cash opened. Here, Geoffrey asked for infos about the beach and bought one entry to the beach, which cost €3,00. "God damn, is this a tourist trap!? €3 for one entry! It's like water in Belgium!" So, he got in and decided to walk the entire length of the beach.

After an hour and a half, he went to the umbrella where he found him: the criminal, he was early. "Wow, ya're early." noted Geoffrey.

"So are you." added the criminal. "Let's get this straight out: we talk and no one gets hurt, OK? If you do make resistance, then Hershey will pay the consequences. Understood?"

"Understood..." sighed Geoffrey.

"Actually, let's not talk here. Too many people around. Let's go for a swim." The teen suddenly changed the subject.

Geoffrey thought about that: he was good in the sea, but not perfect. Nonetheless, there would be no way out for the criminal if he can stay behind him. Despite that, he would leave some fur around, but that didn't bother him. After a few seconds, he agreed. While they were walking there, the criminal talked with him. "You like this wind? You should be used to it. Britain is fairly windy." Geoffrey wasn't amused. "This isn't what we have up in Britain or down in Australia. This is... somethin' else... it makes me shiver!"

Geoffrey was surprised to find how casually he could talk with the man who was holding his wife hostage. But, after all, that was the only thing he could do.

They finally got in the sea where they walked quite a bit, until both of them weren't touching the ground. "OK, so... listen up. The deal is the same as last time. I gave you a day to think about it. So, deal or no deal?"

Geoffrey hesitated. He was still unsure whether to turn himself in or try to fight the criminal. "Remember, if you don't agree, there's no other chance to save your wife." reminded the criminal. But, before Geoffrey gave an answer, the teen noted something. "Look over there". He indicated a brownish mass on the sea heading towards them. "Seaweed. The sea here is always filled with them. Look, I'm getting out. Are you coming with me? We can talk somewhere else."

However, Geoffrey was interested in the mass of seaweed: something was off. According to him, there was something darker floating in the middle, which was shaped like a body. Geoffrey was fearing the worst, so he quickly started swimming towards the mass. As soon as he started, the teen started swimming back towards the beach. A few seconds later, Geoffrey entered the seaweed mass and arrived at the darker spot.

He was right, there was something black in the middle. But there wasn't any body around: the black thing was just fur! A lot of it. Geoffrey grabbed a bit of hair and, soon after, he felt his throat close.

He’d just found something he wished he couldn’t have found.

"H...He...Hershey? L... luv?" He could barely hide the sadness. He was 100% certain that was her fur: after all, why would something black be floating between a seemingly random mass of seaweed?

"No...no... it can't be...!" He felt a tear drop from his eye, which the wind made it feel freezing. The many waves of the sea were the exact opposite of Hershey's brain waves: flat.

Geoffrey tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth. Only sobs. The wind felt even colder, he was shivering hard. He kept grabbing the fur and tried to disprove his idea. But that was impossible; actually, he was even more certain about Hershey's doom. He felt like garbage: not only had he brought his wife into a trap, but now, she couldn't get out. He then repeated, sobbing: "It's all my fault... I... I beg your pardon..." Desperate, he dove under the mass and started looking around: her body must've been somewhere near. He looked and looked, but he didn't find it. When he put his head out, he only saw the waves. "HEEEEEEEEE..." he started screaming, but some water entered in his mouth and cut the scream.

At this point, he also noticed that the teen was gone. Geoffrey's huge sadness quickly turned into rage: "YA FUCKING MONSTER! I'LL... YOU'RE DEAD!" He started swimming in all directions, until he noticed a figure on the top of the deck. He growled before screaming: "COME HERE AND FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN, YA DIRTY FUCK!" He quickly swam towards the deck. At one point, the figure started running. "YA FUCKER! COME HERE!" He stopped swimming and pointed his arrow towards the deck. However, he saw many children on it and a gust reminded him that Bora was still blowing. "I WON'T LET YA GO 'TILL YA GIVE ME BACK MY LUV, YA CHEATER!" He quickly swam back to the beach. However, the teen was quicker and was out of his sight.

"Fight me like a man, ya scared-cunt. I want t' see ya laugh when I'll break every. Single. Bone. Of yours." He was breathing extremely hard and his voice was overcome with anger. He walked to the umbrella, where he found another man.

"Who are ya!?" asked Geoffrey, with a menacing tone, already pointing his crossbow. The man, on the other hand, was calm. "I'm here to continue negotiations on behalf of my boss."

"Negotiations my ass! That prick is playing dirty, so I won't play by the rules any more. UNDERSTOOD!?" Now he was the one asking whether the other had understood.

"Look, we can talk it out."

These words gave Geoffrey an idea. "Let's talk it out in the cabin. There aren't as many people there."

"That's fine."

They got in: it was extremely small, two people would barely fit in a 2*2 cabin. Without the man noticing, who wasn't as bright as the boss, the skunk took the key and locked the cabin. Before a word was said, Geoffrey brought the crossbow to the man's throat. "Listen up, mate. Ya need to tell me your boss's next moves, or else ya're leaving this planet." The man was scared and muttered: "B...but…"

"But what!?"

"I don't know anything! I was only told to…"

"FUCK YOU! Don't ya dare lie to me!" he screamed in his face, making some spit come out on the man’s face.

"But I really was…"

Geoffrey kept interrupting him. "BULLSHIT! Ya know perfectly what happened and your boss's plans. I saw ya when ya kidnapped my luv and now SHE'S FUCKING GONE, THANKS TO ALL OF YA!"

The man started crying. "Please, please. I have a family of 3 to…"

"YOUR FAMILY WILL NEVER HAVE T' WORRY ABOUT YA AGAIN! Say ya prayers!"

The man was paralysed.

"Nothin' to say!? That's OK for me." he said sadistically.

Before he shot the arrow, he had another idea that wouldn't leave as many traces. He got behind the man and put his arm around his neck, locking it between his chest and his arm. "This... this is what YOU and YOUR FRIENDS SHALL GET FOR KILLING MY BELOVED WIFE!" He grabbed the man's head and started pushing on it with his other arm. After 30 seconds, the man started saying "Ouch!"

"Don't worry, mate... Ya won't have to suffer for much longer." His voice showed even more sadism in that execution. He then put even more strength on the pushing arm and finally heard a crack. As soon as he heard that, he let the body go, which fell to the ground. He'd just killed him. Before leaving, he violently stepped on his head. "This is for Hershey."

He then quickly took his phone, got out of the cabin, locked it and threw the key between the wooden plates in front of the door, making it unreachable. "I'm sorry, luv, if I'm doing this. But this... this is to make ya justice. I hope that from..." He started crying again: "from Heaven you're appreciating what I'm doing for ya." Despite proving a love that warmed up his blood, he'd just coldly killed a man. As coldly as the wind, which kept blowing, indicating that time never stops. Just like that, he had to quickly beat it. And so he did: he looked around to see that no one was looking at him and casually left the crime scene. He could easily mix in the many families that wanted to spend the day at the beach. To have fun.

 

 

He got out of the beach with ease at the main entrance and turned right, heading for the park. Here, he found a bench and sat on it. It was a bit outside of the main path. There was also a table in front, with another bench on the other side.

"What t' do now?" thought Geoffrey. He was extremely nervous, everything was coming at him so quickly. Normally, he would be able to keep his cool and act, but something was making him even more tense. That thing was her beloved Hershey's death. So he decided to send an audio message with Marcello's phone to the criminal. He wanted to let him know just how pissed he was. He said with a very deep voice, indicating huge frustration: "I hope you're happy with what you've done, ya fucka! I want t' let ya know that I won't let ya go 'till ya die! Ya don’t wanna know what I did t’ ya friend!"

A few minutes later, the teen responded: "Of course I am: you can barely hold yourself together. And I know. Game on!"

Geoffrey wasn't surprised by the answer: "Justice will be done, mate: ya can't run. I'll find ya and I'll kill ya."

With what? Psychological stability?" was the sarcastic answer.

Geoffrey growled. His next message was in capital letters: "I'LL KILL YOU WITH SUCH A VIOLENCE YOU CAN'T IMAGINE!"

"Actually, I can. That's how Hershey was gone."

Geoffrey was fuming with rage: he tightened his hand on the phone, before violently throwing it on the grass below. Despite being grass, the phone broke from the sheer violence of the drop. He quickly got up and left: "I need... I need t' calm down!" said the skunk, panting. He started walking quickly, back towards the entrance, holding his head. But, instead of going back at the beach, he kept going, heading towards the harbour. Some people were curious about his walking speed, but no one said anything. He went to the small "calle"s, hid in one and put his back on a wall.

He kept panting: "Now... now what?" He tried to think, but his head hurt because of the tension. He was feeling restrained, he couldn't think properly. "C'mon! There's got t' be something t' do!" he growled to himself. That only made him more nervous. The wind still blew hard, but it wasn't as cold as before, despite being the same strength. "What should I do, Her..." he said while looking at his right: he'd totally forgotten she was dead, he couldn't accept it. Then, he started crying: "If...*sobs* if you can hear me, forgive me! Please, luv, *sobs*, come back!"

He sat on the pavement and cried while hiding his head between his arms. 5 minutes in, a family came by: "Are you OK, sir?"

"Yeah... I'm fine..., thanks." He held his tears, but he didn't look at the family.

"What can we help you with?" insisted the mother.

"Nothing... I don't need anything...thanks…"

"Are you sure?"

"Bloody certain…" So, the family left. "Fucking Dutchies, go back smoking ya drugs!" he whispered angrily. The family was Dutch, he understood the accent. As with all foreigners, he had his racist ideas. He would only find the British worth of his name and helping hand.

He then got up: he noticed it was noon. So, he cleaned up his face and went back to the main road, which was filled with families. He found a restaurant which, incredibly, had a table free for him. So, he got in and looked at the menu: "Fish, fish, meat, Mediterranean, etc., not for me." he thought. When he got to the drinks, though, that was much better for him. "I presume those are all local..." he thought while looking at wine and Sauvignon. "Guess I'll have some Cab Sav and some good ol' stubbies!" he thought.

Suddenly, a waiter came to take his order: "I'll have 2 Sauvignon bottles, 3 pints of beer and some grilled meat." The waiter was surprised by the amount of drinks: "5 alcoholic drinks!? Are you sure about that?" "Bloody certain." was the quick answer. The waiter wrote down the order and left, not before asking: "Pints?" "Oh, yeah... 1,5 l.".

A few minutes later, the drinks arrived. He quickly opened a bottle and drank it all, quickly. "Aaaah... much better!" He felt his body heating up and he loved it. "Fuck ya, wind! I've got the beer!" Just like that, he drank a second bottle.

Finally, the meat arrived. "Just like in the good 'ol days down under!" He enjoyed the meat and, within the eating, he kept drinking and getting even more wasted. At the end, he could barely stand up. He felt like he was about to fall and did a 'correction', but in reality, he just moved without a reason. "Oh, quello lì ha alzato il gomito, portalo fuori." (“Oi, that man is drunk, take him out.”) said a man, presumably the owner, to a waiter. "Sir, you need to get out for the safety of the others." Geoffrey didn't answer, he just hiccuped. “Oh… wait… you have to pay.”

"So... that'd be €90..." said the waiter at the cash after a little pause, away from others. Geoffrey tried to grab his wallet, but he ended up touching his whole body while trying to do so. Luckily, no one had noticed. "You probably need some help…" The waiter took out the wallet, grabbed his credit card and put it in the POS. "Now, I need your PIN." Easier said than done. "Ah, shit, what was it again!?" he mashed the first numbers that came to his mind, but he kept missing them. Then, he hit the green. "You're lucky..." noted the waiter. Somehow, the receipt was printed and everything was fine.

So, Geoffrey left: he pushed a chair without noticing and tried to walk out. He then missed a step and goofily fell. Someone laughed, while some people brought him outside.

Back on the road, he quickly collapsed to the ground: he was conscious, but couldn't move. "My head... fucking hell!" he said. It was hurting like crazy, his body wasn't reacting properly. Even moving his arm was impossible. Suddenly, a police car drove by.

"Good morning. Did you drink too much?" They were used to drunk tourists and would recognize one immediately.

"Too much...? Nooooo... just enough."

"Yeah, right. Let's get this done immediately. Please blow here." Geoffrey, who didn't get up, blew: 5 times in the air, then inhaled instead of blowing and then finally blew. The results were worrying, to say the least…

"3.54!? Please come with us…"

"...why...?" asked a sleepy Geoffrey.

"Sir, we can keep you in a safe environment for 7 hours before you start going back to normal." Suddenly, Geoffrey started thrashing violently on the ground, as if he was having an epileptic attack. "Fucking wind, I'll get ya!" he screamed.

The police had enough: they picked him up and brought him to the station. There, he just slept. At 7 p.m., he woke up and was free to go. He didn't remember anything about the drinking.

"Why... why the fuck was I with the coppers?" he thought.

So, he got back walking, heading for the beach. After a while, though, he saw an arcade and decided to get in and go back to his younger self. He bought 100 coins and got playing.

Firstly, he saw a nice spy-like game: he immediately took it up and won... easily. He was so into it that when the character would hide behind something, so would he: he would bend over on the pedistall that held the gun. "Wow... you must have a lot of experience in the spying world." noted a father. "Yeah, I guess so: James Bond movies taught me something." he answered with some cool. He couldn't say: "I do this for a living", obviously. He was feeling great, enjoying himself, for once. Secondly, he saw a Ferrari game where you drive one in a circuit. It was made by SEGA (and still exists) in 2003, Outrun 2 SP. It reminded him of the training days, where he would drive very fast and very slow cars in a simulator with a lot of traffic, different weather and unexpected events in order to catch a car running from him.

After letting some kids finish racing each other, he sat on the driver's seat, inserted the coin and got ready. "I want a challenge." he said. So, he set time trial with manual transmission. "Easy is left, hard is right... I know where I'm goin'." As soon as he was about to start, though, something startled him: he noticed that the characters were a man driving with a blonde woman on the passenger's seat. He quickly changed the view to onboard. "No... it's all fake..." he thought. Nonetheless, he got going.

His driving was flawless: he used the slipstream from other cars, drifted through every corner masterfully and arrived at the finish line easily. He was so into it that his shifts were fairly violent, just like his pushes of the brake and turns. He was so good that a crowd got to watch him race wonderfully, which Geoffrey didn't notice: he would've kicked them out if he'd noticed. So, when he arrived with a great time, he dropped back on the seat: he hadn't noticed how much he was into it. At this point, he heard the crowd roar and clap, but he just ignored them.

"Excuse me, excuse me..." he kept saying while trying to get out.

But the game wasn't done: there was a screen with his time and a name waiting to be inserted. "C'mon, you're first! You can't be unknown!" said the crowd. Geoffrey had to give in. He got back to the seat and saw the 6 spaces waiting for a name. "This is for you... luv..." He didn't notice a tear dropping and neither did the crowd. He typed in "HERSHE".

"Wow, you're very good." suddenly said a man in his 20s.

"Natural talent, I guess." added Geoffrey.

"You beat my record, bro. I'd done it last summer. I thought it was unbeatable. There's only one way to settle this and see who's really the best: a race, 1v1, between us." The crowd roared, the best players of the arcade were ready to challenge themselves. "Race, race, race, race!" chanted the crowd.

"If ya really want..." answered Geoffrey. "But let's make it more interesting…"

"Oh, I like the sound of that. You wanna bet?"

"Of course I do: if I win, ya buy me a present that I want, which can also be super expensive." "...and if I win, which is what will happen?" the man asked with a smug face.

"I'll buy ya the present. Deal?"

"Deal."

So, they put in the coins, chose the cars and got ready to race. They looked at each other before the arcade said "GO!" The race was extremely close, they would go back and forth between 1st and 2nd. Geoffrey, however, couldn't stop watching the girl popping up continuously at the bottom right, saying many things. It reminded him of his girl. This distracted him and made him make a mistake before the 4th sector: that cost him 2 seconds, which are super hard to recover in the game. "Lookin' at that hottie that much, aren't ya?" asked the man, taunting him.

"Oh, I'll get ya back." was Geoffrey's answer.

As they arrived in the final sector, Geoffrey hadn't made any progress and was about to lose the race. "You'd better start thinking about where to get the money." taunted the man.

But Geoffrey answered back. "I'll get 'em from ya credit card, if ya want."

"You cheeky…"

Suddenly, he heard a huge CRASH! from his seat: he'd just slammed into an NPC car in front, losing all momentum. That was enough for Geoffrey to take first place and get the lead. "Auto di merda!" (“Shitty car!”) screamed the man. That was it: Geoffrey nailed the final two turns and arrived at the finish, winning. The man arrived a few seconds later.

"You lucky skunk! C'mon, what do you want me to get?"

Geoffrey, however, was embarrassed. "May I tell ya outside?"

"OK…"

So, they went outside. "A big, brown teddy bear." Geoffrey whispered. The man laughed.

"You!? A teddy bear!? You kiddo!"

"It's for training and for beating it when I’m nervous." Geoffrey quickly added.

"Yeah, sure... I'll get it." After 1 minute, he came out with a big brown teddy bear. "This one!?" "That's perfect, thanks."

"I'll get you next time!" said the man before leaving.

"Next time might be never!" answered back Geoffrey. The man didn't answer and left. Geoffrey started walking in the opposite direction, holding the bear that was as big as him. He felt a little blush by carrying such a big bear through the living heart of the city. He had to walk quickly to reach his car, still parked where it was and still intact.

"Man..." sighed Geoffrey in the car. "I enjoyed this evening." However, he quickly turned sad. "If only you, luv..., could live it with me, that would've been perfect!" He then decided to spend the night in the car... by studying the city in detail. He'd just gotten an idea of the city, but he wanted a very precise picture.

So, he left the car and spent the entire night looking at dark alleys, hidden spots and big paths on the entire island. When he was finished, the sun was rising, but he didn't feel tired at all.

"What t' do now...?"

He decided to go near the main entrance, where he would see many people entering the beach. He hid his face behind a newspaper and started looking at everyone's faces. He was hoping to see the criminal, in which case he would kill him on the spot. But he didn't see it, he didn't come. A few hours in, he gave up. He violently threw the newspaper and left.

"Nothing, nothing... I'll find ya, ya cunt! Stop hiding, it's useless." he said nervously.

He quickly walked towards the park where he went to the same bench hidden from the others. He tried to close his eyes and imagine beautiful landscapes to calm down, but there was always something in them: Hershey. Every time he would try to reach her in the pseudo-dreams, but then she would just disappear and he would fall into some sort of a black hole.

After 5 landscapes, he opened his eyes, which were lucid. Soon after, he put his arms on the table, put his forehead on his arms and started crying: so much tension had built up inside of him that he couldn't hold it. "He...*sobs*...Hershey, I'll get you back... I swear! I swear! We'll be back...*sobs* back together an'... an' we'll solve so many cases an' bring... bring justice to this FUCKING UNFAIR WORLD!" He then kept crying for a good 5 minutes: some people saw him, but ignored him.

After releasing the tension, he put his head back up and was startled: a young teenager girl had just materialized in front of him. "Tutto bene?" (“Is everything alright?”) she asked.

"Yeah, yeah... everything's fine." he said, but he wasn’t convinced.

"Eh?" She showed confusion.

"Parli solo italiano, vero?" (“You only speak Italian, don’t you?”)

"Beh, sì. Non stai bene, si vede: hai gli occhi lucidi." (“Well, yes. You’re clearly not fine: your eyes are glittering.”)

Geoffrey didn't like the young teen's insistence, but he decided to try to be cool: "E' solo che..." (“It’s just that...”) But nope, he couldn't make up anything. He had to admit. "Hai ragione, sto malissimo. Un maniaco ha ucciso mia moglie perché…" (“You’re right, I feel dreadful. A maniac killed my wife because...”) Suddenly, he stopped. She was a stranger, after all: that information was too classified to reveal. "Ma... chi sei?" (“But… who are you?”)

"Sono V..., la sorella di Ale.... E tu presumo sia Ge... Geo…" (“I’m V…, Ale...’s sister. And I presume you are Ge...Geo...”) She was clearly trying to read a name.

"Geoffrey St. John?" He completed the name

"Sì, lui. Impossibile da pronunciare. Sei tu?" (“Yeah, him. Impossible to pronounce. Is that you?”) Normally Geoffrey wouldn’t give out his real name, but she seemed to struggle with it (therefore she wouldn’t remember it) and, in addition, she probably was going to insist. So, he admitted. "Sì... sono io." (“Yes… that’s me.”) He didn’t like saying that.

"Ah, perfetto. Ho delle cose da dirti riguardo tua moglie, il gatto, come cazzo si chiama…" (“Perfect. I’ve got some things to tell you about your wife, the cat, whatever the fuck her name is...”)

"Hershey." he noted.

"Sì, quella roba lì." (“Yeah, whatever.”)

Before she kept going, Geoffrey asked in a not-so-perfect Italian "Io posso fidarmi di te?" (“Can I trust you?”).

She showed her ID: the surname was the same. "Ti fidi?" (“Do you trust me?”) She looked annoyed.

"Sì, mi fido." (“Yes, I trust you.”)

"Bene... ti devo mostrare una cosa. Vieni qui." (“Good… I have to show you something. Come here.”)

He went to the other bench.

"L'ho fatto io da fuori la camera di quel maniaco di mio fratello." (“I took it outside my maniac brother’s room.”)

The video was made through the lock of the door. Not much was shown, however it was clear that the criminal was bended towards the ground, where Hershey presumably was. Then, you could barely see a razor on the criminal's hand, before gagged screams broke the creepy silence. After that, the video ended.

"Non potevo stare lì di più, mi avrebbe visto." (“I couldn’t stay there any more, he would’ve seen me.”)

"Capisco…" (“I understand...”) said Geoffrey with a voice that seemed to show defeat. Without him realizing, tears were dropping from his eyes. "A monster..." he whispered. But he wanted to keep going "Poi come ha buttato il corpo in acqua?" (“Afterwards, how did he throw the body in the water?”)

The girl looked confused.

Geoffrey immediately realized that what he'd thought was wrong.

"Non ne sai niente. Non l'ha buttato nel mare. Solo i peli ha buttato." (“You don’t know anything. He didn’t throw it in the sea. He only threw her fur.”) she said with a hateful tone.

Nonetheless, Geoffrey was starting to hope: maybe, after all, she was alive. "E il resto del corpo? Dov'è?" (“And the rest of her body? Where is it?”)

"Calma, sta sciallo, che adesso lo dico." (“Calm down, keep …, now I’ll tell you.”)

"Sta cosa?" (“Keep what?”) he asked confused.

She rolled her eyes: "Sciallo! Linguaggio dei giovani. Vuol dire "tranquillo". Comunque, la gatta... è praticamente morta." (“…! Young people’s language. It means “calm”. Anyway, the cat… is basically dead.”)

"Praticamente!? Cosa intendi?" (“Basically!? What do you mean by that?”)

"Lei è ancora viva, ma…" (“She’s still alive, but...”)

Geoffrey didn't let her finish: he felt so good at hearing the fact that Hershey wasn't technically dead. Just hearing the word “alive” made him much more hopeful.

But she was quick to bring him back to the crude reality. "Non c'è tanto da gioire, eh. E' in coma." (“There’s nothing to be happy for. She’s in a coma.”)

"Coma? Ma si sveglierà!?" (“Coma!? Will she wake up!?”)

"Non si sa. C'è qualcosa di strano nel suo corpo, mai visto prima." (“It’s unclear. There’s something strange in her body, never seen before.”)

Geoffrey understood everything. "Fammi indovinare, tuo fratello è l'unico che ha la cura." (“Let me guess, your brother is the only one to have the cure.”).

"Come posso saperlo!?” (“How am I supposed to know that!?”) she screamed annoyed. “Ma mi ha parlato di cura…" (“Though he did say something about a cure...”)

Geoffrey was getting more and more nervous: he wanted to get out immediately and get the cure. "Aspe', mi ha detto di dirti questo." (“Wait, he told me to tell you this.”)

"Cosa?" (“What?”) asked Geoffrey, who was standing and ready to go.

"Le darà la cura se tu diventi il suo…" (“He’ll give her the cure if you become your...”)

"Lo so, lo so. E se rifiuto?" (“I know, I know. And what if I reject?”)

"Le stacca la spina. Anche se non ottengo una risposta entro stasera lo fa." (“He’ll pull the plug. Even if I don’t have an answer by tonight he’ll do it.”)

Geoffrey had an idea: "Gli mentiresti?" (“Would you lie to him?”)

He was hoping she could say "Yes". But the answer was so close, yet so far away: "Lo farei, ma anche se è stupido (il che è vero), vuole le prove." (“I would, but even if he’s dumb (which is true), he wants proof.”)

"Cosa vuole?" (“What does he want?”) He felt he had the will to do whatever he wanted.

She took out something from her bag: a plant. "Questa è una radice di valeriana. E' un sedativo potentissimo. Vuole che tu la prenda davanti a casa." (“This is a valerian root. It’s a very powerful sedative. He wants you to sniff it in front of his house.”)

At that point, Geoffrey knew she couldn't lie: a "yes" for the teen would be coming to his house, sniff the root and fall asleep, where Geoffrey would be at his mercy. "E come fa a sapere se la prendo?" (“How can he possibly know whether I take it or not?”)

"Ha messo una telecamera fuori: devi sniffarla davanti a lei." (“He put a camera outside: you have to sniff it in front of it.”)

"Dove si trova?" (“Where is it located?”)

"Ehm… Piazza *******, *. Ce n'è una nella cassetta delle lettere." (“CENSORED Square. There’s one in the mailbox.”)

Geoffrey thought about taking the root, but had another question: "Hershey dov'è?" (“Where’s Hershey?”)

Her tone was deep, showing irritation. "Non lo so. Ma sicuramente avrà qualcuno pronto a staccare la spina o a iniettare la cura." (“I don’t know. But surely he’ll have someone ready to pull the plug or inject the cure.”)

"Va bene. Non dargli alcuna risposta, va bene?" (“OK. Don’t give him an answer, OK?”)

"OK... arrivederci!" (“Fine, goodbye.”)

"Arrivederci." (“Goodbye.”)

And so the girl left.

“Only if you spank ‘em ‘till they bleed those cunts will learn manners!” ranted Geoffrey about the new generation of teens. Now, though, Geoffrey had to think: 8 hours to save Hershey was a lot, but he didn't know where to go. After all, she could also be outside of the region. Plus, visiting hospitals wasn't the best thing and taking the cure from the man there was risky: what if he could easily break it? Then that'd be bye bye for good. He then sighed really hard: "I have to…"

So, he started walking towards the designed destination. Along the way, he tried to be positive: "What could go wrong? I can bare it, I've been tortured so many times." Yet, he didn't feel sure, that teen was extremely smart and fairly creative, but, according to him, that was the only thing he could do to save Hershey.

30 minutes later he arrived at the building, where he found the root. Geoffrey grabbed it: "Am I sure? There's no going back after this..." He just looked at it. He thought about other possibilities, but he came to the conclusion that yeah... he had to take it and bare what was in stock for him. "Here... we... go..." he slowly brought the root close to his face. He was sweating hard. Then, he put it on his face. The effect was very quick, he felt quickly dizzy and then, he collapsed to the ground. Before falling asleep, he heard the door open and heard a voice…

“Dalle la cura.” (“Give her the cure.”)


	6. Blood is boiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bloodiest chapter of his trial: Geoffrey, after the psychological tortures, is forced to bare the worst physical tortures possible. The criminal's creative sadism succeeds in weakening Geoffrey, but he doesn't kill him. Because there's a reason, a reason that will show the criminal's real strength and the complete reasons he brought Geoffrey in this "test". In order to let Geoffrey complete the game, he makes his brutal trap escapable and Geoffrey manages to escape. But the criminal is ready to keep playing.

He woke up a few hours later inside what seemed to be a warehouse, a fairly old one. As soon as he opened his eyes, he felt that it was hot, boiling hot inside. He was lying supine on the ground, as he could see the roof, which was a powerful light that hit his eyes and hurt his head. He tried to get up but, as he had imagined, something held him down: his arms were pulling at shoulder-heights in different directions, just like a cross. On his wrists, there were two metal arcs holding him to the floor. The same that held his neck and chest down. The legs, on the other hand, were a bit spread, but not too much, and around his ankles there were the same arches. His tail was also held down to the floor.

He also noticed that something was holding his mouth open, as much as it could: indeed, his mouth hurt. He tried to speak, but it all sounded like As. His mouth felt dry, while his body was filled with sweat. He then heard something from his left ear, his right ear was covered: it sounded like a bunch of stoves were stacked all around him, making the environment much, much hotter.

"What is he up to...?" he thought.

He had to keep his eyes shut because of the light, but he could see the light, even if his eyes were closed. He tested the strength of what was holding him down and quickly noticed, they were extremely tight and were able to withstand a lot of pressure. "Is this made of platinum!?" he asked himself.

It was: when his captors put him down, someone made platinum removable arcs with incredible precision, so that when he would wake up, they perfectly fit and were unable to be pulled out easily, as platinum is extremely dense (therefore heavier). In other words, they'd made restraints especially for him. The one on his throat, in particular, was annoying: it pressed on the throat a little, he could feel his Adam’s apple touching the metal, making Geoffrey's breathing more irregular, speaking and eating a pain. About that, he felt he'd just eaten, despite being asleep for hours.

Suddenly, the door opened and the power of the light was reduced. He could finally open his eyes, where he saw him: the teen.

"You're finally awake. You seem to have struggled a lot, didn't you. I mean..." he touched his fur with his finger before cleaning it with a disgusted face: "Look how much you're sweating!" Geoffrey didn't like his sarcasm, the teen was perfectly aware that the sweat came from the unbearable heat. "Hey, at least you can sweat it out... unlike a few days ago!"

Geoffrey's eyes showed anger.

"Oh, the skunky Aussie is pissed, huh?" he taunted.

Geoffrey was now furious: he tried to pull up, despite knowing perfectly that it wouldn't work. "Struggle all that you want, Geoffrey. That'll only worsen the situation. There's a meeting scheduled for 2 a.m...." He then grinned. "With barbed wire. Anything against it?"

Geoffrey tried to speak.

"Right..." he removed the contraption that kept his mouth open. Geoffrey immediately spat on his face.

"A spit? Don't make me laugh... you really think a SPIT will make me stop?"

"Why did ya think... to hurt... my beloved Hershey!?" growled Geoffrey, but even speaking hurt as his throat was being crushed a bit by the arch.

"You see..." He then put his foot over Geoffrey's crotch and started pushing. Geoffrey's face hinted pain. "I did it so I could do this. Speaking of her, who knows, the cure might fail."

Geoffrey's eyes bended, making it clear that his blood was boiling. "D... unngh... DIE!" His voice, though, clearly showed him holding the pain.

But the teen pushed even harder.

"Unngh... Arrrgh…" He could only moan in pain.

"Yeah, I'm going to die. You should be happy for that." was the millionth sarcastic answer. "Now BEHAVE!"

Geoffrey was paralysed by the sudden rise in his tone.

"Actually... don't. MISBEHAVE! I love torturing souls who put up resistance, like you." he said with a grin. "Hershey wasn't as fun, but holy shit, YOU ARE!"

"Is this... unngh... is this... your hobby...unngh!?"

"God, I love hearing you speak: it's your only weapon, but you know perfectly it won't work. Even more resistance. C'mon, insult me!" He sounded like a kid in a park.

Geoffrey kept quiet.

"If you don't speak, then..." He slapped his face extremely hard, which lead to a grunt. "I'll still enjoy hearing you grunt and struggle. Even little sounds make me feel good."

They then kept quiet for a minute, looking at each other. Geoffrey hated the smirk on the teen's face. He closed them to try and get that sight away. But he received a kick in the crotch.

"LOOK AT ME!"

The teen climbed on his body, grabbed his green handkerchief (which, with the arch, was now strangling Geoffrey) and put his face millimetres away from Geoffrey's. "You struggling... makes me want to stay here." he said after a while. His voice now hinted insanity. "Your breathing... so tense... I love it! Did you really do this for a woman?"

Geoffrey, though, just gasped, looking for air. After a bit, the teen let go.

"I can... *gasp* I can... unngh... bare... *pant* much... gggrngh... worse!" finally answered Geoffrey angrily, but he was struggling with the words.

"Oh boy, really? Good... you're going to test my creativity."

Suddenly, he changed the matter. "You know, it's almost dinner. You need something to drink." he said with a smirk. He then put the contraption back in the mouth, put the light back and slammed the door.

Who... who is this maniac!?" he thought.

He didn't like the situation, there was no way to get out. In other situations, an answer could leave him free. But here, that wasn't the case. "Unless... unless I bore him." he thought. So, when he came back, he didn't say a word to try to make him bored.

"You need to drink. Usually I give this... 'drink'... to hospitals, but not today. There's no exam to take. Cheers!" Geoffrey understood perfectly what it was: urine.

300 ml of urine were poured into the contraption, which sent it all in his mouth. He immediately tried to cough, but the pee kept flowing in his throat. It was disgusting and hot.

"Oooh... we're not done yet." he said, excited. He then grabbed more pee bags and opened them over his whole body, filling it with a dreadful smell.

"God damn, you smell like shit! You know, you need some water to clean you up." He quickly left and came back with buckets of... ice.

"Ice is still water, after all." he said, holding in laughter.

He smiled before throwing many thick ice cubes onto the struggling skunk. "You should be clean in no time! I'll have dinner, be back in 5 minutes." Just like that, he left.

"This psycho doesn't want t' torture me, he wants t' humiliate me!" Indeed, that was what the teen was doing. What he didn't know is that hidden cameras where everywhere, recording every move. He stood there 5 minutes, with the light in his eyes, trying to pull against the restraints. "How am I going t' get outta here?" he thought. He decided to scream, as loudly as possible. However, the screams were very weak due to the arches holding his throat down. But the teen heard it in the camera and quickly came back.

"Screaming is useless, you idiot! The warehouse is sound-proof. Now... what should I do..." he thought while sitting on Geoffrey's very wet chest. He then farted.

"Oops." he said with a fake disappointed voice.

It was a dreadful fart. Geoffrey was on the verge of collapsing, his body was starting to fall apart. But the teen noticed that. "Oh, c'mon! Don't collapse! Where's the fun in that!?" he said while removing the contraption.

"Why..." asked Geoffrey "why... do ya... *cough cough* humiliate... unngh... people for... fun!?" The teen didn't answer, he just stood there, thinking.

"Huh!? Ya lost... unngh... the ability... to speak!?" His voice wasn't the same as before, he clearly was physically hurt.

But the teen kept silent. And just like that, he left. "My minions will wake you up at 2..." he said before leaving.

He turned off the light, letting Geoffrey's eyes close.

"Actually... this should make it easier for you to sleep..." He put a blindfold on Geoffrey's eyes. Afterwards, he closed his other ear, put the contraption back and covered his nose with two cylinders.

"Sense deprivation, huh? Is that ya game?" thought Geoffrey.

And so, he just stood there, breathing with his mouth. It was still as hot as hell, the teen had turned the stoves back on. Even standing still made him sweat. He didn't like that: feeling your own body getting out of your control is not pleasant.

Suddenly, he felt like someone was, once again, stepping on his crotch. The blindfold was removed and showed two people wearing executioner's masks. "We're here." said one of them, but Geoffrey didn't hear them. The blindfold was put back on his eyes and, a few seconds later, he felt very sharp pain around his upper chest: someone was wrapping barbed wire around it, right below where the pecs are.

"Ah... Anngh... AAAH!"

"Grunt as much as you want, you stinky shit, it's useless."

The pain was unbearable, even a trained spy couldn't hold it: he was used to touching it, but not having it wrapped around his body, continuously poking his fur. With his nose still sealed, he had to pant loudly through the mouth, which was stuck open. He then felt the same pain around his upper legs and upper arms. He also felt a bit of blood coming out of the barbed wire, as he could feel the wire near his flesh.

Geoffrey grunted. He tried to speak, but he ended up saying gibberish. The answer wasn't heard. Suddenly, more sharp pain hit him, this time around his eyes: two needles poked many times his eyes. "AAAARGH...!" He was trying to hide the pain through anger.

Afterwards, he could feel someone very close, his fur was picking up a breath. All of a sudden, he felt someone jumping on his body.

It was clearly a woman, he felt breasts on his lower chest. She then slowly started to touch his fur, which made him struggle.

But it was useless.

And that worsened the barbed wire pain.

However, they weren't done and Geoffrey felt something really hard hitting his head violently: that was a brick. The brick hit him two more times, before he started to feel a bit of blood flowing on his head. Soon after, though, all of the presences he was picking up with his fur were gone: they'd left. Now he was standing there, panting loudly through the mouth. Everything of his body hurt and he felt blood flowing in many parts of his body and he didn't like that. "Ouch... How does he... how does he know the border... between life... and death..." he thought. Even thinking hurt.

The pain was immense, but he knew that he wouldn't collapse, lose consciousness or die because of his injuries: the teen had calculated everything perfectly.

So, he tried to close his eyes. But there was a nasty surprise.

At one point, the ground started moving up and down, left and right, like a boat in a storm. He noticed at that moment that he was strapped down to something different from the floor which was now moving him in a nauseatic way. Even if he couldn't see, he still felt nausea going up.

"Aaaah…" was the only sound that would come out of his mouth.

After 2 hours of continuous movement, his body gave up and had to vomit. At that point, the machine stopped and went back to its original place.

"What... what now? Game on!" he thought.

He was surprised by how complicated the tortures were. "How did he not get caught building this!?" he thought. But there wasn't much more time to think, though.

He suddenly felt something touching his feet soles and armpits: feathers. Yep, there was a tickle torture, too.

Geoffrey tried to hold in, but he couldn't and started laughing. It was brutal, as if the teen knew perfectly how to strike. For 2 hours, it kept going until it stopped. Geoffrey tried to breath more slowly, but he was panting. His body was now a bit more red due to how much he'd laughed, so he couldn't think as well as he could before.

At one point, his ears were opened.

 

"G'day, Geoffrey. Did you sleep well? I’d say you’re _tired and emotional_ , but not really because you haven’t drunk." It was the teen and he was back with his sarcasm.

Geoffrey lowered his eyebrows (with a bit of pain) to show anger and the teen saw that.

"I knew you'd still look at me with that face. You know... red fits well with black and white." He casually said while taking off the blindfold, the contraption and the cylinder.

"Ya... why...?" Everything hurt so much that he couldn't even make sentences.

"You want to know why...? That's OK..." He quickly left and grabbed a chair before sitting right next to the skunk. "This'll be a long story…"

For the first time, Geoffrey noticed some remorse and not as much sadism in the teen. "There's a reason why I want to kidnap famous anthros with stunning abilities, like you. So that I can put them to the test."

"Why... only... *pant* us!?" He was still angry and didn’t like that “racism”. Normally, that would be a compliment, but not this time: it was just like the far-right movements which compared them to brutes. There was a new type of racism after the rift: humans against anthros.

"Because humans are boring. Anthros, on the other hand, come in so many unique shapes. It's much cooler to… let’s say... hang out with them."

"HANG... OUT!?" Geoffrey noted with anger. "IS THIS…"

However, the teen grabbed a whip and lashed it near the barbed wire. "Shut it, please. Let me explain." "This is a way so that I... I can talk with such great people."

"Ya... ya mean... ya... respect me!?" he was surprised.

"...yes. So I decided to put you to the test. Unsurprisingly, you're not failing. I've had people die..." "DIE!?"

"Well... not really: heavily injured. I immediately brought them to the hospital when that happened." "Then... why... unngh... did ya... *pant* kidnap... AND MURDER HER!?" He tried to scream.

"She's not dead." was the immediate answer.

Geoffrey calmed down a little bit.

"In addition, with you here... I can speak... about what I like…"

"Then why..., instead of... unngh... talking, ya... gggrngh... torture!?"

"Because that was day 1. Here on day 2 I want to talk with you."

"...why?"

"No one listens to me... they say I'm too awkward. And the only people..." Geoffrey noticed lucid eyes. "The only ones who would listen to me... are either DEAD or too far away."

"That... won't... save ya…"

"And I don't want to be saved." Geoffrey was shocked: there were clear suicidal tendencies. Was the teen really doing it in order to die? "When I'll free you, please..." He cried hard. "Please... kill me…"

It now all started to make sense in Geoffrey's mind. It was a game, set up in the smallest details, in order to put him to the test. His objective was to kill the teen himself, because both of them wanted to. He was playing so rough in order to get him into the game more so that he could justify the kill. Obviously, if he'd said "I want to play a game" with a deep Saw-style voice, Geoffrey would've easily left immediately for England.

"I had to go rough on you... so that you could play…" explained the teen.

"You're... who are ya,... Jigsaw!?" scolded Geoffrey. "Ya think... that I... unngh... approve... of this game?"

Suddenly, the teen went back into sadistic mode, he wasn't crying any more. "You might not approve it, but you still want to win it. Admit it."

He then got close to Geoffrey's face.

"You. Want. Me. Dead. Just like I do."

"Yeah... bloody hell, I do!" Geoffrey had to agree.

"See? Therefore, you won't back out and keep playing. Inside, you're screaming "KILL HIM!" while outside you think "Get out of here." Look, Geoffrey, you can't run from yourself. I've learnt this the hard way. It’s stronger than you. Only with death you can."

"Ya..." Geoffrey was shocked by the incredible complexity and thoughts of the game he was pulled into against his will, like a leash around his neck that kept pulling. Here, he also felt he wasn’t really resisting against it with all of his force, as if he wanted to see what was at the end of the path. Like in the real world, where he wanted to reach the objective.

"Now... let's talk about something simpler, like... I don't know, school."

"I... I won't speak... with... with ya."

"Well, you don't have to. I'll speak." And just like that, he started to speak about a wide range of subjects, like weather, tourists, school, etc.

At first, Geoffrey made sounds to annoy the teen, but he was then gagged so that the teen could speak without interruptions. As soon as he was finished, he took off the gags and put the contraption back.

"We're not done yet, Geoffrey. Originally, we were going to be done now, but it’s too fun!" he said with a grin.

Geoffrey answered back with a growl. This, however, was met with a reaction.

The teen grabbed the contraption and started pushing it deeper into Geoffrey's mouth. "That'll teach you not to shut up!" he said sadistically.

He didn't push that much, but that still greatly hurt. Just like that, the teen left and Geoffrey just stood there.

A few hours later, in the boiling heat of the stoves, the same men and women with the mask came in. The teen had changed his plans, there were more tortures to come. For hours he was tortured in many different ways. For example, another set of barbed wire was wrapped around other spots on his body, close to the ones where there still was the old barbed wire. He was also waterboarded with freezing water, his eyes were once again poked with needles and other sharp objects, he was whipped with a heated-up whip, glass was broken on his body, the contraption was pushed deeper, he was hit with a brick and even a few drops of acid were dropped in fairly sensitive spots.

It was extremely painful, but Geoffrey didn't scream, he just groaned and growled.

At the end of the torture, they slammed the door, put the light back to unbearable, deprived his senses and locked the door. Geoffrey was left panting extremely hard.

He was feeling once again extremely weak, but he knew he wasn't going to collapse or lose consciousness: once again, the teen had calculated everything perfectly. He felt the blood coming out of his mouth and pain everywhere. Even slightly attempting to move would lead to a huge amount of pain. "What... what shall I do now?" he thought to himself. He attempted to struggle, but the pain was immense. In addition, he clearly didn't have the forces. However, he felt something that gave him hope.

"Wait... those things seem t' be loosened!" He felt as if something was loose and would break under tension.

So, he started pushing against all of his restraints. The pain was immense, but he was in such an adrenaline rush that he didn't feel it.

"Aaargh... aaargh..." groaned Geoffrey. "C'mon, get... off!" he thought instead. 30 minutes in and he started to feel as something was about to detach. "Get... OFF!" he tried to scream. With one more push, he felt something detach.

The iron contraption that was attached to the floor had just detached.

His head was now extremely red from the struggle. As soon as he finished, he started panting loudly and very quickly. "Water... where...?" he thought. Not even his thoughts were sentences because of how tired he felt.

He then just stood there for one hour, gasping for air. Soon, he restarted struggling, but he didn't do it for long. Something wasn’t right.

"Wait... what?" he thought. He could swear the restraints were now stronger. He could feel the blood rushing to his wrists and ankles, which were under immense pressure. Not even his burly body could now scratch the restraints. "FUCK!" he then tried to scream. He'd just remembered he was restrained to an iron shape attached to the wooden floor. What he'd done was pulling it out of the floor, but that meant he wouldn't have support when pulling the restraints: with the wooden floor, the iron shape was held down, letting him put more pressure on the restraint. Now, he was effectively in mid-air with nothing to hold the shape: now it would move if the restraint did.

This made Geoffrey panic, who started thrashing violently against the restraints. The result was even more pain. Geoffrey screamed loudly, even if he knew no one could hear him. However, the thrashing brought something positive.

As soon as he stopped and started panting again, he felt his tail was now free: since it was tied to the wooden floor, now that he had just slightly moved himself and the shape meant that his tail could slip out of the restraint holding it down. "Right! The tail!" he thought. He knew that was probably his only chance to get out.

He started moving it quickly around in order to do a reconnaissance of the area. He accidentally hit a stove which dropped on his legs, burning them. "Aaaargh..." He soon pushed against it and slowly took it out of his leg. He then noticed he could reach his face. So, he did that, put it between his eyes and the blindfold and pulled against it, ripping it.

Now, there was the light to deal with, but that was simple: just put the tail on its trajectory.

Finally, Geoffrey could see properly.

"Let me see..." he thought. There were stoves everywhere, on benches, everywhere. Between them, he thought he'd seen a button.

"That's me ticket out of here!" he thought. But his tail couldn't reach it.

Barely.

"C'mon... unngh..." he thought. But it was useless. So, he decided to get closer to it. He knew that, considering he wasn't attached to the floor, he could now move himself closer to it. Very slowly, he got closer to it until he finally hit the button.

Suddenly, he felt an electric charge flowing through him. The contraption was connected with wires which were always hidden below the ground. That kept going for about 5 minutes, before it stopped. As soon as it did, though, Geoffrey noticed something.

He was free.

He quickly took the contraption out of his mouth and all of his sense deprivation things. "Fuckin'... fuckin'..." he whispered panting. He had so many red spots around his body and could see blood flowing out of his mouth.

He slowly got his upper body up and stood in a sitting position. He was panting extremely hard, all of his body hurt badly. Even getting to that position was immensely painful because of the barbed wire. He stood there for an hour, panting and thinking about everything; after all, he could only do that. He then slowly got up.

"Unngh... unngh..." he groaned.

As he tried to walk, his legs were shaking: they needed to get back being used to holding him up. His steps were short and unsure. He tip-toed his way and reduced the power of the very powerful light and slowly stepped to the door. It was shut.

"If only... sigh... if only... I had... *pant* the strength..." he thought. Freedom was so close, yet so far away.

He tried to grab his utility belt, but that's when he realized something: everything, including his crossbow, was gone. His hat, his shoes, even his handkerchief, everything. He was effectively naked. "Shit..." he said to himself. The tortures were so bad he felt he'd lost all of his abilities. Obviously, though, his body needed to rest, so he just unplugged all of the stoves and sat on a bench. He was extremely thirsty and also hungry: he hadn't been fed for quite a bit.

So he decided to drink what was left of his saliva. He then remembered something. "No worries... mate... you've done... done this already." He looked around and found something resembling a cup. "Sahara... god damn, I remember..." he said while peeing in the cup. He then opened his mouth and, in one shot, he drank it all. Half of it was spat out, but the other half went down his oesophagus. It surely wasn't the best drink, but that had to do. "Yuck!"

Of course, he was still hungry, but he didn't think much of that: he surely wasn't going to die of hunger. He then noticed how cool it was now. "Bloody hell... I'm freezing!" he thought.

For the next 2 hours, he just stood there and thought about his next moves. "I need t'... get out of here..." he finally thought. Before leaving Grado, though, he wanted to find his stuff back. "Where... where the fuck... did... did he put my... stuff!?" he said. Going around without his crossbow wasn't going to do him any good. One thing was for sure, though: he had to leave the warehouse behind.

Now that he had regained a bit of strength by relaxing, he got the door and broke it. However, he still felt sharp pain. "Of course!" he exclaimed.

The barbed wire: that was still wrapped around many parts of his body. He obviously couldn't just pull it out with his hands. He needed shears. Unsurprisingly, there weren't any around. "Fucking knew it!" he scoffed in anger. Now every single move was going to be extremely painful.

He then slowly limped his way outside of the warehouse: finally, after days of captivity, he was outside. That freedom, though, was partial.

Still, he felt the rain dropping on him, cold but clean.

Finally.

The wind cooled him down even more.

Finally.

He almost dropped to the ground to kiss it, but the barbed wire said "No" by giving him pain. However, those were the only things he could enjoy since he was stripped of his belongings, he had to stay in the city and make something up quickly.

He saw something awkward on his left: it was fairly short, so he easily climbed on top of it. He then sat on it (there was a lot of place) with another 'step' on top of him. He decided to climb the second step and peak what was over there. He quickly noticed that it was a 2 m drop into other property. He decided to stay on the very large steps, where he saw the garden with the warehouse in it. So, he decided to check it.

He slowly walked towards the building, where he saw three wooden doors sealed from the inside. He tried to break them, but the pain was still sharp and couldn't do it. In addition, the doors were super strong and wouldn't budge. There was also a window sealed the same way. "Uuunngh... Got t' make... ahhh... somethin’ else... ufff...up..." he said. The barbed wire, though, was hindering his movements: the smallest movements would lead to continuous pain. He knew that he couldn't stay there, he had to leave. He sat back on the steps, but then he noticed something: there was something black precariously standing on a drain. "What the…"

He got back down and walked to it. He then tried to bend over to grab it, but the pain didn't let him. Nonetheless, he tried again and grabbed the thing. He was shocked when he understood what it was: "Me phone!" It was his personal phone and it hadn't been modified. The background picture was still the same: he and Hershey on a wonderful picture while on a boat in London. "Luv..." he said holding tears. There were also his ID card and all of the permits released by the government.

But there was no time to cry or wonder how they ended up there: he got back to the steps and thought. "If I were him... where would I hide stuff?" He had to think about what was plenty in the city. "It's got t' be... a... place ya can't know for certain... which there is heaps of... Oh..." He had the idea: sand. There were two huge beaches in the island and his stuff could be buried easily without being caught. In addition, it was hard to run into it accidentally. "He must've... put it... *pant*... far from the coast... where ankle biters dig... It's got t' be near the beginning of the sand!" In addition, with his phone now, he could use a metal detector of some sorts to find at least the bow.

With this idea in mind, he painfully climbed and landed on the other property. Here, he quickly (as long as barbed wire on legs lets you) limped out of the private parking and over the gate. No one had seen him, no alarm had gone off. He then looked at the road, where he noticed he was in a harbour. No one was around, so it must've been around 4 a.m..

Geoffrey didn't think twice: he dove in the water. Here, he stayed for a good 10 minutes, despite the water not being that clean. But then, he quickly remembered his intentions and left. He kept walking through the city, limping because of his injuries, almost having to use an arm as support. "Unngh... god damn..." he said in pain. He'd never been tortured in such a way, so he wasn't used to it.

As he limped on a pedestrian path, he was feeling dreadful, so he sat on a bench and looked at his phone. There was a message for him, from +39 **********. The profile picture was the same from Marcello's phone: it was him. The criminal. The message was 12 hours old and read: "If you're reading this, congrats! That means you've escaped my trap. Now go look for your stuff and get ready: the next level is the final level. You know where to find me." "Ya wannabe Jigsaw, ya know what's coming." was the answer.

Soon, it was going to end.

But when was “soon”?

 


	7. Game over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Free but severly injured, Geoffrey needs to get help from the Italian emergency services in order to keep going. Once healed, he teams up with the Italians, whether he likes it or not, for the final showdown: the criminal is waiting, playing as rough as he's always played, and he's ready to destroy Geoffrey, physically and psychologically, if he doesn't kill him. Will Geoffrey keep what is left of his cool to kill the criminal, or will he succumb to his tortures once and for all? The final showdown is here, everything comes down to this.

He sat on the bench for another good 20 minutes, doing nothing, just trying to breathe slowly, before he heard something nearby: it was a strange and seemingly random sequence of sounds. But Geoffrey knew what it was: it was the Police's radio. He'd already worked once with Italian police and so he knew what that sound was.

"Not in the mood... unngh..." he said before painfully getting up. He obviously didn’t want to spend time with police officers. The cop, however, noticed how much he was struggling and approached him.

"Signore, come posso aiutarla?" (“Sir, how can I help you?”) he asked the skunk. However, Geoffrey didn't answer: he just stood there, showing his shoulders.

"Non abbia paura, signore." (“Don’t be afraid, sir.”) he said while showing his ID released by the police, identifying as agent Lorusso (totally made up).

Still no answer.

"Mi scusi, posso vederla in faccia?" (“Excuse me, can I see your face?”)

Silence. Geoffrey kept ignoring him. He was thinking about what to do.

"Va... bene…" (“...fine...”) he then slowly said. He turned around and showed himself. There was light and he noticed the policeman looking at his body. "Che ca…" (“The f…?”)

He was in absolute shock: he'd never seen barbed wire wrapped around a body. Only now had he noticed it on the white chest. There were also clear bruises and Geoffrey was still extremely dirty, despite the rain.

"Che... le è successo...?" (“What… happened to you…?”) asked the still shocked policeman.

"Niente... unngh... niente…" (“Nothing… nothing...”) answered Geoffrey slowly.

"Non dica stronzate, signore, per favore. Sono qui per aiutarla." (“Please don’t tell me bullshit, sir. I’m here to help you.”)

"Anche se... lo dico... cosa farebbe?" (“Even if… I told you… what would you do?”) asked an annoyed Geoffrey.

"La mando all'ospedale." (“I’ll bring you to the hospital.”) was the immediate answer.

"No... non serve... grazie." (“No… I don’t need to go there… thanks.”) said Geoffrey. He also started to walk away, limping. But the policeman didn't listen to him and called the ambulance anyway. He also followed the skunk, but Geoffrey noticed.

He turned around and looked at him angrily. "Go deal with burglars, god damnit! Leave me alone! I haven't done anything an' I don't need ya help!"

"Perché si ostina a non volere il nostro aiuto?" (“Why do you persist in not wanting our help?”) asked agent Lorusso, worried.

At this point, Geoffrey felt he was cornered: he was too suspicious and saying something else could put him in trouble. "Fine!" he sighed loudly. So, he just stood there before the ambulance arrived. When the doctor came to load him in the ambulance, though, he was also shocked: Geoffrey was basically in four colours, black, white, brown and red. He tried to put him on the stretcher, but he too was poked by the wire.

"Ahi. E ora come lo carico?" (“Ouch! How am I going to load him on the stretcher?”) he thought to himself. "Per favore, può mettersi sulla barella?" (“Could you please put yourself on the stretcher?”) he asked afterwards.

Geoffrey, despite hating that situation so much, had to agree and put himself on the stretcher before being rushed to the hospital. At the hospital, he was put to sleep in order to remove the wire without making him suffer. Soon after, he woke up, feeling finally free from the wire's clutches. He was still panting, though.

"I need... I need t’ get t’ Udine." he thought.

He then looked at his window and saw that he was on what looked like a tower near another tower on a hill. Between that and the sea, there was a big city: Trieste. He was in Cattinara, quite far from Grado. Diving out of the window was out of the picture: death was guaranteed. He must’ve been on the 10th floor. Even trying to glide to the ground was extremely dangerous, since Bora was now blowing even harder: after all, he was now in a city known for it, which effectively shapes how the people live.

"Shit, I need to get my stuff back!" he remembered.

He wanted to get out of the room, but before he could, some people wearing black clothes entered: they were Carabinieri, as it was showed on their IDs.

"Signore, ci serve la sua testimonianza." (“Sir, we need your testimony.”)

"Testimony?" asked Geoffrey surprised.

"Sì. Ci sono stati chiari segni di tortura sul suo corpo e abbiamo visto sul suo telefono che parlava con un certo numero: +39**********. Abbiamo dovuto formalizzare una denuncia per tortura, reato previsto all'art. 613-bis del Codice Penale, contro questo soggetto. Il soggetto in questione risulta irreperibile. Ci serve la sua testimonianza per rintracciarlo." (“Yes. There are clear signs of torture on your body and we have seen on your phone that you were talking with a certain phone number: +39…. We had to file a report for torture, as specified in paragraph 613-bis of the penal code, against this subject. We need your testimony in order to track him down.”)

"No worries, mates, I'll get 'im by myself. Let's try and avoid ya bureaucracy."

But they weren't happy with that answer. They understood perfectly English, but they couldn't speak it as well. Still, they tried.

"Do you want to do justice by yourself?"

"No, no, no, no. I didn't mean that!" answered Geoffrey annoyed. He then quickly made up an excuse. "What I meant, was that I don't wanna waste time with reports an' that kind of stuff. Ya know, things about Italy t’ avoid." He was avoiding Italian because it didn't come out as naturally as English, but they restarted speaking in Italian.

"Questa testimonianza non sarà ufficiale, ma sarà richiamata in tribunale quando servirà…" (“This testimony won’t be “official”, but you’ll be called to deposit your testimony when needed...”)

"Excuse me, agents, but look..." Geoffrey had enough. "I've already spent too much fucking time in this country an' I'm so close to solving the case, so…"

"Caso? Per chi lavora, scusi, i servizi segreti?" (“Case? Excuse me, who do you work for, the secret services?”)

Just like that, his cover was blown. In a matter of seconds.

"...yeah... I do." He said with a bit of embarrassment. He then showed his official British-government released ID for spies. However, that made the situation much better.

"Ci scusiamo per l'intralcio, agente... 020...? Però siamo costretti a fare denuncia. Se non lo farà lei, lo facciamo noi…" (“We’re sorry for getting in your way, agent… 020…? But we have to file a report. If you don’t do that, we’ll do it...”) said the police officers.

"Go ahead... just leave me out of this. Or at least my real ID." Geoffrey requested.

“Va bene. Vuole che usiamo solo le iniziali?" (“That’s fine. Would it be OK to use just your initials?”)

"No, not even my initials. Don't use my name. Nor my number." He quickly got to the point.

The police agents were surprised, but they didn’t insist. "Va bene. Arrivederci." (“That’s fine. Goodbye.”)

"Wait, hold on...!" Geoffrey suddenly shouted: he had just had an idea. "Could you please escort me to Udine? The criminal is there."

"...va bene…" (“...OK...”) They weren’t fully convinced, but they knew he wouldn’t take “No” as an answer.

So, they got in a black CC car and drove towards Udine. In the A23, though, the radio played the sound that indicated an upcoming message. It was worrying.

"A tutte le unità in zona. C'è una situazione di ostaggio a Udine, ripeto, ostaggio a Udine. La zona è quella del centro, ***** *** ******... Chiediamo rinforzi…" (“To all units around. There’s a hostage situation in Udine, I repeat, hostage in Udine. The zone is the central one, in ***… We request back up.”)

Geoffrey couldn't hold a gasp. The criminal was acting and now was holding someone hostage.

"Ha detto che vuole vedere un agente dei servizi segreti britannici, lo chiama Geoffrey...San John...?" (“He said he wants to see an agent of the British secret services, he calls him Geoffrey… San John?”) the radio continued. Even if they had butchered his surname's pronunciation, he understood he was looking for him. It was also repeated with the NATO code, which confirmed his suspects.

The final showdown.

 

"Porca miseria, sta cercando lei." (“Goddamn, he’s looking for you.”)

Geoffrey just nodded.

"If only I had me crossbow…"

"La sua che?" (“Your what?”) asked the agents confused

"Ba...Bales...balestra, sì. The British government allows me to use one." He then showed an official permit for the usage of it.

"Sa dov'è?" (“Do you know where it is?”)

"No, but I think it's in Grado. So are a hat, a pair of boots, a utility belt and a green handkerchief."

"Color?"

"Magenta, I would say."

"Ah, sì. Quei che 'l puteo g'ha trovà in spiaggia ieri." (“Oh, yeah. The things the kid found in the beach yesterday.”) said an agent with a Venetian accent to his colleague. "Dì a Grado di mandare ‘na pattuglia a Udine con que’a roba." (“Tell Grado to send a car to Udine with that stuff.”)

His stuff, as he'd thought, was found in the sand by a kid and now the Carabinieri asked to send his stuff back. "How long will it take?" asked Geoffrey, ready to have his equipment back.

"30 minuti se va bene." (“30 minutes, if everything goes well.”) was the answer.

Following this, they said on the radio they were ready to intervene, put on sirens and rushed to the scene. 15 minutes later, they arrived: there were many police cars, also some military ones. The roads nearby were totally blocked.

"Qui." (“Here”) said the agents who quickly dropped off. Geoffrey also got off in the midst of armed officers.

He then pointed at a closed window.

"E' lì" (“He’s there.”) he said to the agents. So everyone pointed their guns to the window. For a few minutes, though, there was a stalemate before the officer who was coordinating the operation approached Geoffrey.

"He wants to talk with you. Right now." said the chief operator.

Geoffrey grabbed the radio and angrily said. "What are ya up t', ya cunt!?"

"Geoffrey, I'm so glad to hear from you again." said the other voice in a Jigsaw-style tone. "You've now come to the final showdown against me. Who I'm holding hostage is your beloved cat Hershey…"

Geoffrey growled.

"...who has a gun in her mouth…"

He then heard shots being fired from the radio.

"LUV!" screamed Geoffrey.

"Whoops… looks like you weren't quick enough…" The voice seemed to show pride in what he’d just done.

Geoffrey was fuming with rage. "Tell him he's dead." said Geoffrey to the chief quickly before rushing to the gate. He knew exactly how to get to the block of flats and where the criminal's apartment approximately were, but he didn't know exactly where to go. An agent, however, held him.

"Dove va!? Non è armato, è un suicidio!" (“Where are you going!? You are not armed, it’s a suicide!”) asked the agent, who really was worried.

"HE KILLED MY FUCKING LUV!" Geoffrey screamed in his face. "Those... THOSE WILL BE ENOUGH!" added Geoffrey a few seconds later while showing his hands. He also broke free of the agent's grasp and rushed for the building.

He climbed over the fence, but before slamming the door to the part of the building where the apartment was he heard more sirens coming.

"Aspetti!" (“Hold on!”) screamed an agent.

"WHY SHOULD HE WAIT FOR HIS DOOM!?" he screamed "HERSHEY FUCKING DIDN'T!!!!"

"E' arrivata la tua roba." (“Your stuff arrived.”) they said, keeping their cool.

This put back some reason in Geoffrey's mind, who went back to retrieve his stuff.

"Le serve supporto?" (“Do you need any support?”) the agents asked.

"No, grazie. This..." he said confidently before looking at his crossbow. "Is personal." He went back into the block, broke through the door and started to think where the criminal could be. "No... no... there."

He saw the surname he was looking for. On the front door, there was a very old drawing drawn by a 5-year-old child that said, in Italian: "Welcome to V...'s home." The criminal’s younger sister. On the left, there was also a cloud with "Welcome" written in white, probably from a primary school project.

He licked his hand and rubbed it against his hair: he felt like he was in a James Bond movie. "OPEN UP!" he screamed.

"It's already open." said the voice from the other side. So, he pushed the door and entered the apartment.

What he saw was terrifying.

 

A few meters from him was the criminal, the teen, holding Hershey to gunpoint. She was still alive, but was visibly crying. On top of him, there was a hole in the roof: that’s where the shots were fired. But Geoffrey didn’t stand there thinking: he immediately pointed his crossbow to the teen's chest, but didn't fire: he was shaking, he couldn't get a clear shot.

"Listen up, Geoffrey: if you shoot me with that arrow, I'll still have enough time to blow her brains, OK?" "Nothing is OK with ya, PSYCHO!" said Geoffrey while breathing heavily. "Ya threats won't work with me any more. I know how to deal with 'em now. Ya'll never shoot her."

"Oh, really?" he quickly took it out, fired at the roof and put it back in her mouth. “People can change in a second, you know.”

"Is everything OK?" asked the officers on the radio.

"Yeah. I'm fine." he said.

"You're not fine." taunted the teen.

"I'm fine... fine enough to murder ya!" answered Geoffrey back.

"Then, go ahead. Shoot me." he said while showing his chest, clearly hinting he wanted to get shot.

He also put the gun even deeper in her throat, making her cough.

"C'mon. I know you want this to end. Your body is begging you to do so." he kept putting pressure on Geoffrey.

But Geoffrey didn't fire, he was still shaking visibly, he still couldn't get a clear shot.

There was silence for a few seconds. Seconds that seemed hours.

The teen broke the silence. “Geoffrey, what’s holding you back? Fear of the law? Fear of losing her? Fear of the future?”

Geoffrey, though, kept playing the silence game. Mostly because he didn’t know what to say: his mind had been basically destroyed by the unbearable physical and psychological tortures.

“What are you waiting for?” insisted the teen, pulling the gun even deeper in the throat. “Hershey eating the gun?”

Still no answer.

"Then you need some help… shoot me, shoot me, shoot me...” Tension kept rising at each “shoot me”, with him saying it louder, as if he wanted to trigger something in Geoffrey’s mind, as if to test his limits before he breaks: something that incredibly hadn’t happened yet, but was very close to happen.

At one point… the limit was reached.

 

“SHOOT ME!" he screamed extremely loudly for the millionth time. This time, though, he also pulled the trigger.

The lever that kept Geoffrey from shooting broke because of this, now it was all impulsive: without him realizing, he shot an arrow, which hit the teen's chest right in his heart.

Yet he didn't see it.

Instead, he saw the images of the case going quickly through his eyes, hiding the view, like before you die. Like a film, he saw everything, from the first meeting to the drive to the city.

The case was finally over.

But he also didn't even see Hershey dropping to the ground dead in a pool of blood.

He didn't want to.

His brain was now triggered by the pull and was now out of Geoffrey’s control and just gave him images of the aftermath of the case, which were less than merry.

There was him incredibly sad, unwilling to accept the truth. Drinking in pubs to forget about it, before leaving his mercenary job in the government and launching himself off of London Bridge, landing on a boat and filling it with red: his blood. His last words would be: "I haven't solved the case of my life. Sorry."

That, however, wasn't going to happen. Because the image of Hershey dropping dead in a pool of blood would only partially materialize.

What were totally real, though, were a few words muttered by the criminal. "Thank you... thanks for playing my game. I'm glad... we both won." Silence followed.

Geoffrey then dropped to his knees, still not knowing what he'd done and the sight in front of him, with two people on the ground, one with an arrow in his heart, the other without it.

He would’ve felt much better if he could see it. But his brain was somewhere else: only his heart was still there, demolished.

"Get me... *sigh*... get me the doctors." he muttered to the radio, with humanity in his voice. As soon as he said that, police officers stormed the apartment, where they saw the scene. Four paramedics also entered the apartment with two stretchers, putting the teen on one and Hershey on the other.

The policemen then circled Geoffrey, who was still lying on his knees, facing down and covering his head. His brain was shattered by the incredibly complex psychological torture that the teen had put against him and now he was starting to feel the effects. The adrenaline rush was over, but the pain was still there.

"Signore, non è in arresto, ma deve venire a depositare la sua testimonianza in caserma. Se il ragazzo sopravviverà, avvieremo un processo…" (“Sir, you’re not under arrest, but you need to come deposit your testimony at the police station. If the boy will survive, a trial will start...”) said the agents, showing compassion.

"He... he can't live…" muttered Geoffrey.

"A maggio hanno tirato fuori una freccia di una balestra nel cuore di una persona a Torino ed è sopravvissuta. Non è impossibile." (“In May an arrow from a crossbow was taken out of a person’s heart in Turin and he survived. It’s not impossible.”) reassured an officer who was really informed.

"That’s… that’s good… t’ hear..." he just whispered before getting up and being loaded in the car by the officers. The station wasn't that far, a 3 minutes drive.

As soon as they got there, he was brought to a room where he had to deposit his testimony.

Here, he told everything in great detail, from the first meeting, to the kidnapping of her beloved, to the brutal tortures he had to endure. He did, however, leave out the heat stroke and the meeting with the woman of the NGO.

Both, actually, had been solved secretly by Hershey through compensations in the tens of thousands of pounds and apology letters. The CC, though, noted that.

"Two women have reported you for threats and light injuries. Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because...” Geoffrey sighed: looking at that moments probably hurt as much as the tortures “... because I became so... addicted, shall we say, t’ this case, that I couldn't waste any time. I feared he was going to act against others an' I wanted to take him down before he could do that." All of the conversation was being translated by an interpreter.

"I see. No need to worry, though, you've already paid £30.000 to the doctor and £20.000 to the volunteer as compensation with a formal letter of apology signed by Hershey... San John? Do you know her?"

"She did that? My luv..." Geoffrey was surprised.

"You didn't know? She's just told us at the hospital." They were equally as surprised.

"She's... fine?" Geoffrey couldn’t bare the happiness.

"Yes, sir. She'd just collapsed due to the shock of the gun cocking..."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!" he screamed in happiness.

After some formalities, he was free to go.

"OK. That's all for today. We'll let you know if the boy survives. In that case, you'll have to take part in a trial as a testimony against the torturer. Is that all right for you?" said the CC at the end of the meeting.

"Yes."

"Good."

They then said "Bye." and Geoffrey left.

As soon as he did that, he looked at the bus routes and took the buses that dropped him to the hospital. He was now much cooler with Italians and wouldn't try to hide as much. At that point, he was fairly well known in the city and Grado: that was probably the most worrying and interesting case since the cold case of the Monster of Udine and the arrest of Vallanzasca respectively, which had happened back in the 80s!

When he got down of the bus, he saw her sitting in a bench: Hershey was there, waiting for him. "L...L... LUV!" he screamed with lucid eyes before lunging at her. But she was not surprised as they rolled one over the other to the ground. They hugged each other really tightly.

"Luv... I'm so glad to see ya!" he said while barely holding tears.

"So am I, Geoffrey!" Even she could barely hold the tears.

"I thought I'd lost ya!"

"And I thought I'd never see you again."

After that, they got up and, holding their hands as tightly as possible, as they waited for another bus. They didn't know where it would head, they just wanted to enjoy some time together. Once in Piazza I Maggio, they decided to get off and climb the hill to the castle. They were now on top of the city, with a wonderful view of the whole place and the mountains in the background. The sky was crystal blue and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. They sat on the wall and looked at each other as if it was the first time.

Love was coming out of both of their faces, and also voices.

"Luv... I love ya more than my job."

"And I love you more than the view, because YOU are my favourite view!"

They then hugged each other, tears flowing on both of their bodies. Afterwards, Geoffrey got on the wall and opened his arms, feeling the wind as it was blowing against him.

He was feeling on top of the world.

They then happily got down before Geoffrey received a call: it was from the CC.

"Sir, the MI6 has just informed us about everything, therefore we will exceptionally allow you to take part in an eventual trial through a video-call from your location. Speaking of that, the operation is still ongoing."

"OK, thanks." Geoffrey answered simply.

He then got a call from the MI6 in his secret microscopic radio. "We're sorry we couldn't help more, agent 020, we hadn't understood the importance of the case for you and your wife. Since we often condemn solo actions without permission from the JIO, at first we thought it was going to destroy your career. And your life, too. However, nobody else could probably withstand such brutal and complex tortures and you've brought a very dangerous criminal to justice. Please accept our apology and we thank you for your fantastic job."

"No worries, mate. Glad to still be part of ya organization and help the country." was the answer. "You know, you actually helped the country, too!” remembered the man. “A British anthro citizen had been kidnapped while visiting Italy 6 months ago, in a ski resort. He'd reported that man, but no proof was found."

"He probably hid it... his father works for the police. Hiding such evidence was impossible without his help." added the skunk.

"Yeah... that's probably what happened. Anyway, thank you for your services."

"No problem! God save the Queen!"

"God Save the Queen!" That was their way of saying “Bye.”

They decided that it was now time to get back to the UK, but they had to bring the car back, which was still in Grado.

"We still have the Jaguar in the city." noted Hershey.

"Yeah, let's get it."

They found a taxi and got to the place where they'd left the car: the road below the house. It was still there, intact.

They got in, with Hershey in the driver's seat. "Lemme set up the SAT-NAV... right around here. Take it easy, luv.”

They then drove like casual tourists to the city, slowly. A good chance to talk.

"So... luv, what happened while you were kidnapped?"

"Well... I don't remember that much…"

"He raped ya…" said Geoffrey: he hoped this could help her remember. And it did, but not in the way he expected.

"No, he actually didn't. Now that I think about it, the photos he'd given you were photo-shopped." Geoffrey sighed in relief.

"This, however, was true." she pulled over and took some fake hair off her lower legs. "I was brutally cut by a razor. He then told me he was going to throw it in the sea so he could trick you into thinking I was dead."

"Yeah... he really wanted t' see me break down..." Geoffrey wanted to forget the experience, so he wanted the conversation to be quick. "Anyway, then?"

"When you turned yourself in, you were put in the warehouse…"

"Yeah, I know that." He didn’t really take pride in that moment: he knew he was able to get out thanks to the teen: by himself, he probably would’ve slowly died.

“...while I was in the building where you then found the doors sealed. He treated me like a goddess while you were being tortured. It is here that I tried to find you. Yet I didn't know you were just a few yards away. He would always tell his men to bring me for great walks around the city. However, when he was tired... he put me in the trunk and drove me to his apartment where, when he learned you had freed yourself, started the hostage situation. He said he had had "enough footage."" continued Hershey.

"Footage!?" asked Geoffrey surprised. "About what!?"

"Your tortures: they've been uploaded on the dark web. By now it's probably impossible to totally delete the video. It's in hundreds, if not thousands of snuff films sites. You were recorded the whole time and, even when you stood still, he was taking great pleasure and uploaded the whole video. I've found it somewhere and gave it to the police just a few hours ago, when I got out of hospital. They're still viewing it, trying to find the executioners."

Geoffrey was once again shocked: "My privacy... that drongo violated it! Now the IRA will know what t' do!" He then thought a bit before asking: "And what about Marcello and the other bloke I'd killed?"

"Neither family reported it. They were fed up with them: they'd caused many problems to both families. Plus, you’re on the Police’s good side, so…" Hershey affirmed.

"I see... good t' know. And when did you compensate the women?"

"Can't tell ya." she said mimicking Geoffrey.

“Oh, ya...”

Suddenly, she heard Geoffrey’s chest growl. That reminded him he hadn’t eaten for days. “If your chest rumbles, then you really mustn’t have eaten for centuries!” noted Hershey.

Geoffrey jumped up, as if he’d just remembered something. “There’s a restaurant up ahead.” he said quickly. “I’ve read their food can make ya stuffed!” They stopped there and Geoffrey ate two portions of chicken: in that restaurant, eating just one almost makes you explode.

Outside, Geoffrey burped. “Much, much better!”

Finally, they arrived in Grado where Geoffrey found it.

"There's the car. Let's dispose of this and leave this shit behind."

"I bet it would be this one: you still can't resist big and brown teddy bears, can you?" joked Hershey. The bear was sitting in the passenger’s seat.

Geoffrey blushed a little and then clearly yawned: he hadn't slept in 48 hours and now he was starting to lose his lucidity.

"I'm driving, Geoffrey. But what road should we take?" she asked while showing a map.

"I don't like the German border crossing, so...go through France."

Normally, he would call it “Baguetteland” because, you know, French and British really don’t agree. But he was now looking at the world in a more respectful way.

"OK."

Just like that, they drove off, with Geoffrey taking a much deserved very long nap: it was the perfect reward. After a very long drive, they arrived in London.

Geoffrey, after sleeping the whole journey, was woken up and greeted by his fellow agents. They were glad to see him back.

Here, he was also informed about the developments of the case: the operation was successful and the teen was alive, ready to face a trial. In addition, his testimony was enough and probably the teen was going to be easily sentenced. He'd even rejected a lawyer. He didn't want to defend himself, they'd told him. Because of this, the trial was going to be very short and he probably wouldn't be needed again.

"I know what he wants t' do." said once Geoffrey with confidence. "He wants t' be sent t’ a psychological institute an' be discharged for incompetency." And indeed, that was what happened: he was sent to a psychological clinic for 10 years in order to rehabilitate.

But Geoffrey didn't care: he could now finally enjoy some freedom with Hershey before the next case. After over a week of suffering, he could now choose his own rhythm and keep going with life the way he wanted to, a different one from the one before the case.

Ready to tackle the next case in a new and better way.


End file.
